Lin Zhaoyue sauntered ahead, unbothered by the ominous air thickening with every step.
Her gait was light, almost whimsical, as if strolling through a garden, not the rotting breath of a venom-swamp.
Behind her, Du Juan exhaled sharply, gripping her sheathed sword like a lifeline.
Her eyes flicked warily around the terrain, and despite herself, she followed.
Internally, she prayed, half solemn, half sarcastic.
Clan Head Fang… if I make it out of this alive, I swear, you'd better compensate me with enough resources to buy a sect. How dare you send me alone with this unstable woman!
The ground softened beneath their feet, until finally… they arrived.
It was a swamp. Or what was left of one.
The terrain lay in ruin, gouged and shattered, as if a celestial beast had once clawed its fury into the earth.
Pools of stagnant poison shimmered with an unnatural luster.
