Deep Mountain was steep and perilous, its scenery secluded and lovely.
Fallen leaves had piled up in a thick layer. After rotting, they had merged with the soil, soft and spongy underfoot.
Pale-yellow miasma drifted through the mountains.
Milky-white clouds and mist shrouded the woods.
A murmuring stream flowed from who knew where, soaking the jagged rocks, then went on toward who knew where.
Mo Hua took a Miasma-Repelling Pill to drive the miasma from his body, released his divine sense, and, while guarding against demonic beasts in the forest, carefully made his way north along the rugged mountain path.
After walking for most of the day, the sun finally sank, dusk enveloped the mountains, and the deep forest grew ever darker and more profound.
Mo Hua looked up and found that the night was deep, the fog heavy, and the miasma thick, cutting off his divine sense.
The range his divine sense could perceive was less than half of what it had been in the daytime.
The demonic aura in the mountains also gradually thickened.
Some demonic beasts that "stirred by night and slept by day" seemed to be slowly waking, letting out strange, inexplicable low growls in the bleak night, the sounds echoing dully through the mountains.
Mo Hua frowned.
It seemed he could not travel through the night...
He thought of the Dilapidated Temple the old man had mentioned, and, relying on his memory, released his divine sense, found a direction, and headed toward a hidden mountain path.
He passed through a stretch of woods, climbed over a huge boulder, and walked for another half hour before finally seeing a Dilapidated Temple halfway up the mountain.
The temple was ruined, but there was the faintest trace of human presence, as though cultivators occasionally passed by and rested