The Nine Peaks Basin was generally a lush, green place.
There were deserts and large freezing plains, but these were rare.
Pale or yellowish spots on a continent of green.
So it was easy to notice the arrival in the dead lands.
The green grass turned into a dry brown carpet that gradually darkened to black, as did the withered and broken trees that surrounded it.
Everything there exuded a sickly poisonous Qi, incapable of harming a high-level cultivator, but strong enough to kill a mortal in a few hours, even though the poison was over twenty thousand years old and now carried only a fraction of the power it once had.
Qingyi walked alone through these dark lands.
His face had changed, as had his voice, taking on the face of an ordinary middle-aged man, with a hoarse, deep tone.
To avoid suspicion, the group had split up, taking separate and isolated routes towards the dead lands.
