Leaving the snowy plateau far behind, Monk Qingchan and Yachanyin spared no expense, driving their escaping lights into an even more desolate and lifeless wasteland.
Beneath the gravel, a faint dark red hue bled through, as if soaked in dried blood and filth. The air was thick with a strange, burnt stench that mingled the metallic reek of rust with the rot of dead leaves.
Looking all around, there was nothing but endless pale yellow. The wind swept across the sand dunes, its howling like the weeping of lost souls.
Chapter 352