The Southern Frontier rainforest steamed with miasma under the lashing rain, resembling a chaotic, primeval demonic realm. Shen Mingyue's skirt was already soaked through by the mud, heavy as if she were dragging thousands of catties of iron chains, and every step required immense effort. The Jade Pendant pressed against her heart felt scalding, its intense heat radiating through her clothes as though echoing the deep drumbeats rolling from the distant Witch Clan altar—beats that struck one after another like the heartbeat of the Grim Reaper. Gu Jinghong held an oiled-paper umbrella to shield her from the fine mist of rain, but the fierce gale warped the canopy. Dried bloodstains on his blade mixed with the rainwater, dripping down the umbrella ribs onto the moss-covered stone steps, where dark red trails meandered amidst the emerald green like bizarre little snakes.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Gu Jinghong's voice was splintered by the thunder, laden with deep anxiety. He gazed into Shen Mingyue's eyes, his expression a mix of heartache and unease. "The High Priest said that the blood sacrifice might awaken more than just the Holy Tribe's power." Before his voice faded, a harsh screech of a night owl pierced the depths of the forest—shrill and eerie, startling a flock of scarlet miasma birds into flight. They beat their wings overhead, the liquid dripping from their feathers leaving purplish-black traces in the rain curtain. Wherever it passed, the leaves instantly w…
Chapter 39