Fallen Dragon Abyss lay along Great Xia's eastern border, adjacent to the vast, boundless Hundred Thousand Mountains, where Demon Beasts ran rampant.
Legend had it that in ancient times, a true dragon had fallen here. Its blood had soaked through a thousand li of mountains and rivers, while the wails of its dragon soul lingered unceasingly through the ages, creating this strange region—shrouded year-round in pale red baleful mist, with treacherous terrain and fragile space.
No one knew how deep the abyss ran. Within it, astral winds howled, and spatial rifts occasionally flashed into view. Ordinary cultivators simply did not dare venture deep inside.
Dragon Gate Cliff, meanwhile, was a relatively level giant precipice on the outskirts of Fallen Dragon Abyss, shaped like a dragon's head peering down into the depths.
Its cliff face was smooth as a mirror, bearing faint, naturally formed dragon-shaped patterns. The local natives revered it as sacred ground, holding endless sacrifices whenever certain dates arrived.
When Lu Chen reached the vicinity of Dragon Gate Cliff, there were still two shichen until midnight, when the secret realm would open.
The sun had already sunk behind the Hundred Thousand Mountains. Only a smear of dark-red afterglow remained on the horizon, intertwining with the red mist that lingered above Fallen Dragon Abyss all year round and casting heaven and earth in an eerie, dim gloom.
On a relatively open gravel bank beneath Dragon Gate Cliff, dozens of figures had already gathered.
They stood scattered in twos and threes, maintaining obvious wariness and distance from one another.
Their attire varied, as did the strength of their auras, but without exception, none were mediocre.
The weakest were at the early stage of the Supernatural Power Realm, while quite a few possessed obscure, profound auras, clearly having reached the middle stage