Mo Hua was utterly shocked.
"Black Mountain Stronghold!"
In the depths of Great Black Mountain, there was actually a mountain stronghold!
The stronghold's gate was ancient and weathered, likely having stood for over a century.
It was mottled with bloodstains, likely left by severed heads being thrown there and blood splashing across it. Through the changing seasons and passing years, it had accumulated a nauseating stench of blood.
It looked both gloomy and eerie.
"Midnight, the Submission-for-Entry Ritual opens the way."
Mo Hua silently recited the words in his heart.
So that was what Submission-for-Entry Ritual meant: kill someone and sever their head, using that head as a Submission Token. Only then would Black Mountain Stronghold's gates appear.
Once the gates appeared, it meant the Sinful Cultivators within the stronghold had accepted you.
Sure enough, a moment later, accompanied by an old and grating creak, Black Mountain Stronghold's gates slowly opened.
The fat cultivator wore a crazed expression. He straightened his Daoist Robe, then walked step by step into Black Mountain Stronghold.
After he entered Black Mountain Stronghold, the creaking sounded again. The gates slowly shut and gradually vanished.
The fat cultivator disappeared completely as well.
Mo Hua's eyelids twitched.
So this was how one entered Black Mountain Stronghold...
It was hidden so deeply. No wonder no one had discovered it all these years.
And judging from this, those who could enter Black Mountain Stronghold truly were Sinful Cultivators with blood all over their hands.
At the very least, that fatty was no good person.
He had six lives on his hands. He had suddenly struck at someone who had called him brother, moving both swiftly and ruthlessly. His sword had pierced straight through the man's chest, impossible to guard against.
He had befriended the skinny cultivator only because he