The impenetrable darkness, like cold black ink, saturated the rugged skeleton of Wolf God Mountain.
The wind threaded between the massive black rocks, emitting a sobbing, shrill whistle, like the wailing of countless lost souls.
The air in the atmosphere, mixed with the stench of blood, sulfur, and ancient decay, was as thick as substance; every breath felt like swallowing cold sludge, pressing heavily upon the lung lobes with a heart-palpitating oppression.
Qin Lie pressed tightly against an ice-cold, bone-chilling boulder, his figure nearly merging with the deep shadow cast by the rock.
The Tortoise Breathing Formula operated to its absolute limit, his heartbeat as faint as that of a hibernating snake, and the flow of his blood nearly stagnated, his entire person resembling a lifeless stone.
Only those eyes, deep within the heavy shadows of his hood, were as sharp as blades quenched in cold frost, piercing the darkness and locking firmly onto the core area ahead, which was shrouded in an eerie glow.
Not far behind him, Lin Feng, Zhao Tiezhu, Wang Meng, Sun the Lame, Qian Chuanzi, Zheng Xiaodao, and Zhou Shitou—seven men in all—resembled ghosts lurking in the darkness, each relying on the cover of the rocks to hold their breath and steady their minds.
Their bodies were as taut as bowstrings, their muscles trembling slightly in the cold air—not out of fear, but from extreme concentration and the restrained power of a spring ready to release.
Chapter 177