The night was like thick ink, heavily spilling over the rugged mountains of Baiyan Mine.
The once noisy wind of the day seemed to hold its breath, with only the occasional breeze from the depths of the mine pit carrying the scent of sulfur and rust, whimpering as it swept past jagged rocks, lifting a few dry leaves before they fell back down, adding to the eerie silence.
Faint phosphorus fires flickered ghostly between the collapsed mine entrance and abandoned slag heaps, like countless peering eyes.
Under the shadow of the towering cliffs on the east side of Baiyan Mine, a pure glow dispelled the deep darkness.
The Holy Daughter Dali stood quietly, her simple white robe unmoving in the night wind, like a saintly jade statue.
Her eyes, clear as morning stars, pierced through the night, gazing at the sparsely lit camp below in the mining area.
Behind her stood the orderly ranks of the Light Sect knights and mages, totaling several hundred people.
