The mountain path leading to the valley grew more treacherous with every step.
Towering ridges rose on either side like jagged fangs, casting long shadows over the narrow trail. Mist coiled low to the ground, fed by unseen streams deep in the crags, and a chill wind blew from the south—sharp and dry, carrying the scent of dust and old bones. Birds no longer sang in this region. Even beasts avoided it.
The group pressed forward, Lin Mu at the front with Little Shrubby keeping pace beside him. Meng Bai rode atop the flame beast, occasionally glancing to their sides for signs of ambush.
Elyon brought up the rear, his gaze shifting from shadow to shadow as though he could sense the intentions of the cliffs themselves. Daoist Chu kept a few talismans ready at hand, while his Immortal Sense was active.
