In a desolate valley, Zhang Yue and Ziyan were making their way forward with great difficulty. All around them were steep cliffs and jagged rocks, while the wind howled through the valley like the lament of the earth. In the gloomy sky, heavy dark clouds hung low, making it hard to breathe. The path through the valley was rugged and uneven, strewn with rocks and thorns of all sizes, making every single step exceptionally arduous.
Zhang Yue's clothes snapped in the wind, and his resolute face was covered in sweat and dust. Yet his gaze remained steadfast and unyielding, and his hands tightly gripped the longsword that had accompanied him through countless battles. The blade gleamed with a cold light, as if recounting its past glory. Ziyan followed closely beside him, her beautiful face looking slightly weary, while the Staff in her hand emitted a faint glow to light the path ahead. A hint of worry flickered in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by an indomitable resolve.
"There is an eerie aura about this place. We must be careful," Zhang Yue said vigilantly, his voice sounding somewhat hoarse against the howling wind.
Chapter 77