Yu Xiaogang's Journey Through Hell

Spirit City's nights had never been synonymous with silence.

The clamor of taverns and the laughter and chatter of passersby wove a vibrant web of nightlife.

Yet that liveliness was like an invisible barrier, completely shutting out Yu Xiaogang, who was curled up in the corner of a dark alley.

The chill of late autumn had long since shed the day's mildness, transforming into countless icy needles that burrowed through the gaps in his clothing.

That cold seeped bit by bit into his marrow, freezing him until even the spaces between his bones ached.

Yu Xiaogang crouched halfway down in the corner, his legs long numb and senseless, his toes stiff with cold.

But compared to the cold gripping his body, the emptiness and cramps churning in his stomach were even harder to bear.

From dawn until now, he had gone more than half a day without eating.

He had entered Spirit City carrying the grand ambition of becoming the Teacher of Gods, his heart filled with visions of witnessing Spirit Hall's destruction and seeing Qian Cheng kneel and beg for mercy. But

Reality had dealt him the cruelest blow!

The four gods led by Tang San had lost so thoroughly that they had not even had room to struggle.

"First, fill my stomach. Then find the best inn, rent a superior room, take a scalding hot bath, and change into clean, warm clothes... As for everything else, I'll deal with it after I wake up."

That thought became Yu Xiaogang's sole source of mental support, as well as his only fantasy for temporarily escaping reality's cruelty.

The autumn wind swept bleakly past the mouth of the alley, sending the dead leaves on the ground spinning before they lightly settled on Yu Xiaogang's thin clothes.

The cold wind was like