The next moment, Pei Ling realized he was no longer above the river where the battle had taken place. He was buried beneath a mound of corpses.
His vital energy was withered and decayed. Rotten wounds covered his entire body, densely packed with human faces. The sight was too horrible to look at.
Though he had used his power to suppress it in time within the Dream Realm, the curse was still erupting with alarming speed.
His incarnation, Mo Lilan, was dressed in a black robe and leaned against him. Her eyes were tightly shut, long lashes drooping over her fair, jade-like face, which was serene. Her aura was calm and steady. Her will had returned to the True Immortal's Dream Realm, so her body in the present world had automatically fallen asleep.
Pei Ling quickly checked his surroundings. Above, below, and on every side, he found nothing but ancient-looking skeletons that had been dead for who knew how many years.
Nearly all the flesh had vanished from the bones. Tattered robes barely veiled the heaps of white skeletons, piled up like mountains.
Even so, the bones still gave off a faint, glimmering radiance.
Some carried pure, ethereal auras; others, sinister ones. All kinds of Daoist auras lingered among them, as if even the passage of time could not wash them away.
Clearly, the owners of these skeletons had possessed profound cultivation in life, whether righteous or wicked. But now they lay jumbled together, unburied and untended, like the mass grave of a mortal famine. The heaps even brought to mind the fish market after closing time.
The dead catch was often left piled carelessly in a corner like this, abandoned to circling mosquitoes and flies that fed on it.
Mud and silt had accumulated among the bones, where many