The ruins of Zixiao Palace resemble an ancient battlefield forgotten by time. The dilapidated walls stand solitary in the biting cold wind, each mottled stone like a silent witness to history, whispering the glory and splendor of days past.
Shi Feiyang and his fellow heroes, filled with utmost vigilance, cautiously stepped into these mysterious and danger-laden ruins.
The cold wind, like sharp blades, cut their faces, stinging painfully. The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only the sound of the wind howling by their ears, as if singing an ancient and mysterious ballad.
Suddenly, a melodious yet chilling sound of a zither flowed in from all directions like an invisible undercurrent.
The zither music seemed to carry a mesmerizing power, sending a shiver through one's heart.
Soon after, a group of people clad in Daoist robes appeared without warning from every dark corner, like phantoms sneaking out from the Nine Nether Hell.
