The night was thick as ink, shrouding the road as the group made their way toward Pillar 270.
It was the darkest hour before dawn. The cold wind howled as though countless wronged souls were sobbing at their ears, whipping their robes into loud flutters and suddenly tightening the atmosphere.
After traveling for a little over an hour, Qin He suddenly caught a faint muddy stench drifting through the air.
It was like stepping into a rotting mud pit, the smell of countless bubbles gurgling up from the sludge and rushing into one's nostrils.
Beneath the earthy smell was the foul reek of decay.
Without Da Yajin's guidance, Qin He followed that scent and pinpointed the direction of Pillar 270.
The closer they came, the stronger the smell grew.
A sliver of fish-belly white appeared on the horizon, casting a gray-black hue across the air.
Mystic Fog had risen here as well.
A sense of ill omen crept into everyone's hearts. It felt as though they were walking toward the end of their own lives, unbearably oppressive and heavy.
Qin He could fully imagine the despair of the three dead Night Watchmen, forced by the Night Watchman Iron Law to approach the stone stele, only to be completely devoured in the end.
One step forward led to a dead end.
One step back led to the same.
They could only approach while clutching at a shred of hope, praying for fate's favor.
In the end, they walked into their own graves.
Evil Spirits were far more terrifying than evil beasts.
"Hush!"
Da Yajin glanced at the sky in the distance and signaled for everyone to stop. He was waiting for dawn to arrive.
This had been calculated beforehand. After dawn, yin would weaken and yang would flourish.
Another half hour