Within that mysterious and perilous space, oppressive darkness permeated the surroundings, save for a giant, sinister magic circle that emitted an eerie glow, as if it were the sole ruler of this endless dark. Having endured countless trials and tribulations, the group was exhausted in both body and mind, yet their gazes remained steadfast, and their inner resolve had not wavered in the slightest.
Zhang Yue gripped his sword tightly. The light upon the blade flickered erratically, like a candle in the wind, threatening to extinguish at any moment. His eyes were fixed on the magic circle that continued to emit its strange glow. Breathing heavily, he still shouted aloud, "Everyone, push a bit harder! Victory is right before us!" His voice echoed through the empty space, carrying an unquestionable determination.
Ziyan's delicate body trembled slightly, like a flower in the wind that might wither at any second. The light of the Staff in her hand was dim, and the once brilliant gem had lost its former luster. Yet she still gave it her all, chanting softly as the ancient and mysterious spell flowed from her lips, continuously pouring her remaining spiritual power into the spell. Every syllable uttered seemed to exhaust a tremendous amount of her energy; beads of sweat covered her forehead, and her face was as pale as paper.
Chapter 114