At the end of the metro line stood a bronze gate utterly out of place amid its surroundings.
Though they were in the cramped confines of the Yin Mountain Metro, that bronze gate seemed like a mountain range, infinitely tall and endlessly heavy.
The entire gate was cast from bronze, its surface covered in ancient patterns that writhed across it like living creatures, exuding a heart-palpitating aura.
Zhou Yao reached out to touch it, only to suddenly hear a hoarse whisper.
"Human, this isn't a place you should be!"
The voice was ancient and authoritative, carrying an unquestionable command.
As it spoke, a gaunt, aged face began to emerge upon the bronze gate. It bulged from the surface, its features deeply sunken, its wrinkled skin like the bark of a thousand-year-old tree.
Yet those eyes were bright and piercing, gleaming with majesty. Its bearing was that of a god looking down from on high.
Zhou Yao said nothing, merely sizing up the aged face from head to toe.
"Though you have passed the trial of the Eighteen Levels of Hell, Hell has not yet fully returned."
The aged face continued, its voice carrying a hint of admonition.
"Go back! Return to the present world where you live, and await the final descent of the Eighteen Levels of Hell!"
They were clearly ordinary words, yet Zhou Yao felt an unprecedented urge to believe them.
That feeling rose from the depths of his heart, as though a lofty deity had bestowed an oracle upon him, making him instinctively want to obey.
Had it been the Zhou Yao from the beginning, he would've already obeyed the decree and left. But after undergoing the baptism of the Ritual of the Eighteen Levels of Hell, his essence, energy, and spirit had reached an unprecedented peak.