A moment later, after layer upon layer of baleful miasma had been drawn into the bottle-type treasure and cleansed away completely.
The sight before them still gave Qin He and the others an immense shock, even though they had been prepared for it.
The space cleared of baleful miasma formed a colossal "dome" beneath the clouds. A beam of setting sunlight spilled down, illuminating this land of utmost yin that had been shrouded in baleful miasma for who knew how many ages.
As far as the eye could see lay a sprawling complex of Buddhist buildings, dormant across hundreds of miles.
Twelve great mountains held aloft those dark-gold domes that speared into the heavens. The cranial protuberance of the highest statue tore through the cloud layer, and wisps of cloud drifted past its dim eye sockets, like the sigh of an Ancient Era giant god descending upon the mortal world.
This Buddhist temple was not the sort Qin He had known in the past.
It was like the difference between the dharma manifestations of Maitreya Buddha and the Vajra Arhat: smiling Maitreya, glaring Vajra.
For all its grandeur, it held none of Buddhism's compassion or solemn majesty, only a proud aloofness and cold indifference that looked down upon all living beings.
On closer inspection, every stone pillar beside the steps seemed like a work of art forgotten by time. They stood silently, bearing witness to the weathered changes of the ages.
Yet when their gazes fell upon the relief carvings on those stone pillars, an involuntary chill rose in their hearts.
These reliefs were no ordinary carvings, but images steeped in horror and destruction.
They appeared in a heart-palpitating fashion, like demons emerging from the depths of hell, grotesque and twisted.
Every line revealed boundless malice, enough to make one