The night was deep, the starlight soft and melting.
Outside the bronze tree, the old woman's walking stick lightly tapped the ground, the decrepit wood colliding with the bronze tree roots, emitting a heavy, droning boom.
Those teeming in the darkness—Heavenly Ghosts—suddenly opened pairs of blood-red eyes, their sharp horns tearing through the dark, as shadowy images of demons charged forth.
Clang! Clang! Clang!!!
Countless shallow, sharp white scars were left on the bronze Divine Tree.
As the old woman's wooden staff tapped the thick vines ever more frantically, the corpses of the Heavenly Ghosts stacked higher and higher beneath her, almost submerging her hunched, buckled figure.
But with her rhythmic tapping on the root vines, each heavy strike unleashed an unimaginable gale of energy, sweeping the mountainous piles of War Ghost corpses away in a mist of blood.
The tinkle of Blood Pearls splattered in the cold trunk, leaving mottled and cruel traces.
