At the border between Dust Spirit Province and Northern Luzhou lay a forgotten, desolate land.
The Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy here was so thin it could almost be ignored, while demon aura flickered on and off like a guttering candle in the wind.
As far as the eye could see, the barren crimson earth was split by countless parched fissures. Now and then, a few twisted blades of withered grass struggled out from between the rocks, only to droop their heads half-dead.
It was precisely because of such a vile environment that any Demon Cultivator clan with even a little foundation disdained to settle here. Only a few tiny and feeble Demon Race tribes, left with no other choice, eked out a miserable existence in this place.
The Ice Spirit Rhinoceros Clan was one of these resident tribes.
Their numbers had never been great; counting everyone, they had no more than a few hundred clansmen. Their patriarch was an old rhinoceros who had cultivated ice-attributed techniques for eight hundred years. In ordinary times, he maintained his cultivation by drawing in the faint wisps of cold spiritual aura deep underground. Though the clan had never produced any great power, it had still barely managed to gain a foothold in this desolate land.
Yet tonight, it all came to an end.
A thick stench of blood, like an invisible fog, filled every corner of the Ice Spirit Rhinoceros Clan's territory. The moonlight was bleak as it spilled down, illuminating a scene too horrific to behold: corpse after corpse of Ice Spirit Rhinoceros clansmen lay strewn across pools of blood. They had died miserably, their bodies shriveled as though some evil thing had drained every last drop of blood essence and spiritual marrow from within them.
The rhinoceros horns that had once