On the northwest ridge of Jiuming Peak, a sheer precipice jutted into the air like a giant sword cleaving the void, towering and grim.
Thousands of weathered incantations were deeply etched into the cliff face like the branding of time. These spells were densely intertwined, some clearly visible while others remained blurred and indistinguishable.
Hu Yuan and his party of six stood quietly upon the cliff. The mountain wind roared like a furious tide, whipping their robes so violently that it felt as though the bitter gale might strip away their very souls.
Chapter 402