The traps are numerous and the cold arrows are countless; trying to locate the Ancient Curse Space is truly extremely difficult.
Upon stepping into the Black Wind Stronghold, a decaying aura assaults their senses, as if the air is permeated with a tangible, chilling atmosphere that evokes fear. On the village walls, vines twist wildly, narrating the passage of time with their gnarled forms, as if time has stood still here. The dilapidated houses lie scattered, with the occasional scurrying of mice breaking the deathly silence, adding to the bleakness. Beside the dried-up well, weeds flourish; the well's mouth seems like a deep black hole, greedily swallowing all light and hope. A gust of eerie wind blows, causing the tattered banners to flutter loudly.
