Among the shadows of the trees, a blood-stained garment hung—a marker fabricated by Chen Yi.
The mountain's visage was pitch-black, dense foliage overlapping in endless layers, as though enshrouded in a veil of ghostly mist.
As Yin Tingxue advanced step by step, towering ancient trees loomed along the path, their intricate intersections forming an expanse of shadowy gloom.
Yin Tingxue had already reached a place so dark she couldn't see her own hand in front of her face.
Her breathing inevitably quickened; the oppressive darkness swallowed her whole. She scanned her surroundings but found herself alone. Yet, within the oppressive shadows, it felt as though countless pairs of eyes were watching her.
It was as if she had stumbled into some ghostly realm.
Suddenly,
A chilling wind swept through the forest. In the depths of the inky shadows, a face emerged—disheveled hair, wrapped in jet-black bird feathers.
...
Yin Tingxue was taken away.
Chen Yi realized it almost instantly.
