Deep in the dense forests of the Southern Frontier, the miasma hung thick and stagnant, like stirred ink, weaving itself in wisps around the tangled, gnarled roots of ancient trees. The twisted branches of these trees resembled the reaching, clawed limbs of monsters, and bioluminescent fungi hanging from vines cast an eerie, sickly green glow over the dark, damp landscape. This light cast sharp, clear outlines of the centipedes and toads crawling across the ground—the centipedes moving in dense, scurrying swarms, and the toads’ bloated poison glands glowing with an ominous sheen. Shen Mingyue was dragged forward by iron chains; the rough metal grated repeatedly against her ankles, quickly carving wounds so deep the bone was visible. Fresh blood welled up incessantly, seeping into the blood-red soil, only to vanish into wisps of strange, pale smoke, as if the land itself were greedily devouring her life force.
"We have arrived." The High Priest’s voice was laced with an uncontrollable, trembling excitement, hissing like a serpent flicking its tongue. He reached out to push aside layers of thorns; the sharp barbs slashed his arms, yet he seemed not to feel the pain. An altar covered in moss suddenly loomed into view, surrounded by a ring of twelve stone pillars carved with human faces. Each face was twisted in a cry of agony, and burning human-bone torches were thrust into their hollow eye sockets. As the flames flickered, the faces seemed to writhe in torment. In the center o…
Chapter 67