The buildings on Shu Mountain's main peak were far grander and more majestic than those in Southern Garden. First were the plaque-bearing halls, each three stories tall. In ancient times, a building's luxury was judged by how many bracket sets it used.
The bracket sets beneath the eaves of Shu Mountain's halls were layered upon layer, their corners sweeping upward at an angle, making for an imposing sight.
There were no fewer than nine such halls on the main peak, one on each plaza, arranged like a staircase leading all the way to the summit.
Yet under the erosion of yin energy, the paint on the nine halls had peeled away and turned pitch-black, making them resemble ghost towers of the underworld.
Beyond the nine great halls, houses and pavilions stretched out in clusters, though most had already collapsed into ruins.
Within those buildings and across the plazas, where withered grass filled the cracks between stone bricks, powerful vengeful spirits drifted about. There were men and women, old and young. Some had rotting faces and fallen eyeballs dangling from their cheeks; some had half their heads shattered, black blood staining half their faces red; others floated around with their intestines trailing behind them.
Aside from the vengeful spirits, figures wandered through the plazas and houses. They were powerful yin corpses, all with bluish-black skin and hair as tangled as dead grass.
Some had festering skin leaking pus, some had protruding fangs, and some gripped rusted iron swords like Swordsmen.
These Spirit Servants and yin corpses had all been disciples and elders of Shu Mountain in life. After death, they had been eroded by yin energy; their souls remained, their flesh mutated, and they became powerful yin creatures.
But the moment the domineering, scorching golden sun rose, they were like snowmen