Under a dusky sky tinged with a hint of blood, the land was covered with sores and wounds.
Gigantic fissures that seemed to lead to the Abyss crisscrossed the ground. Compared to them, even Huai Shi, as large as he now was, seemed no more than an insignificant speck of dust.
These crisscrossing chasms had utterly dissected an enormous mountain.
It was as if kindergarteners, drunk on vodka, had been let loose to slice a cake—haphazardly and without any geographical common sense.
On that fragmented mountain peak directly in front of Huai Shi stood the Capital City spoken of by the Lizard Monk.
But the problem was—aside from the heavily guarded Capital City, there were also fortresses on other mountains, clearly featuring a style starkly different from that of the Capital, yet equally chilling.
It was as if they were...standing in opposition to each other.
Huai Shi could even see brown bloodstains, the remnants of dried spatters, on their walls.
