Every so often, the faint echo of distant screams reached Han Yu's ears. It made him shudder. He could not tell how far away they were, or who they belonged to.
The dark cultivators were still hunting.
His only choice was to run and hide, to survive long enough to find an opening, a path out... if such a thing even existed anymore.
But then, as he reached the crest of a low rise, he noticed something strange ahead.
The land dipped into a shallow basin filled with pools of water. The ground looked soft and damp, some patches firm and others sinking slightly under the weight of moisture. A foul yet familiar scent of wet earth and stagnant water reached his nose.
He froze, his eyes widening as realization struck him. The murky waters, the twisted mangrove roots jutting from the soil, the faint buzz of insect life.
"This place…" he whispered.
He knew it.
