"Do you think uncle is on the bottom level?" Yanyin asked loudly. "Or the middle? He always told me he preferred middle things. Not too high, not too low. Just perfectly in between. Except for tea. Which he always wanted scalding hot…"
She went on and on about her uncle as we walked further into the belly of the beast.
The inner prison was dimly lit. Some cells we passed were completely empty. Others held miserable cultivators, as their spiritual pathways were forcefully sealed shut with glowing talismans slapped across their chests and foreheads.
Further down, we passed enormous, reinforced cages where heavily shackled beasts of unrecognizable origins breathed in the shadows.
Every so often, we would come across a smaller cell where a human prisoner would press their face against the rusted bars, looking at us with tired, sunken eyes, as if we were aliens descending from the stars.
