The closer he drew to the altar, the more oppressive the atmosphere became—a paradoxical blend of desolation and tragedy, saturated with endless, lingering resentment.
Around the altar, a halo of dense, tangible blood-colored energy flowed in a slow, rhythmic pulse. Within this light, countless phantoms of souls, locked in eternal agony, turned their heads in unison. Their hollow eyes fixed upon Qin Wudao, and they emitted silent, piercing screams. A surge of negative energy, heavy with malice, swept toward him.
For an ordinary cultivator, or even a Saint, the impact of so many tormented spirits would likely have shattered their mental fortitude. But Qin Wudao was different. His primordial spirit was formidable, his Dao heart was unshakable, and he possessed the Hongmeng Emperor Bone.
Chapter 68