After they left the nauseating gray-white deadlands of the Withered Bone Forest, an invisible hand seemed to wipe away every color between heaven and earth in an instant, leaving only the heaviest, most solemn of them—black.
This was the territory of the strongest and most mysterious of the Far North's three great tribes—the [Black Mountain Tribe].
The ground beneath their feet was no longer soft red earth or brittle bone dust, but obsidian strata as hard as iron. Every step rang sharply beneath their soles, like metal striking stone.
The more striking change was the gravity.
"Hah... hah..."
Following behind Chu Bai, Zuo Qiu now had fine beads of sweat on his forehead, and his breathing had grown labored.
The two Foundation Establishment Early Stage cultivators from the True Spirit Society were red-faced, forced to circulate their spiritual energy constantly to resist the omnipresent downward pull.
"Fellow Daoist Chu, the gravitational field here... is at least fifty times stronger than outside."
Zuo Qiu looked up at the towering black mountain spanning heaven and earth ahead, sleeping like a primordial beast. His eyes brimmed with apprehension. "The Black Mountain Tribe lives year-round in God-Severing Peak's shadow, tempered by both magnetic storms and gravity. Their physiques are probably even more terrifying than those of the Blood Spear Tribe."
Chu Bai stopped and looked up.
At the end of his sight, an immense, pitch-black mountain range rose into the clouds, blocking their path.
The mountain was so high that its slopes disappeared into thick thunderclouds halfway up. Countless purple thunder serpents darted through the clouds, unleashing dull rumbles.
At its foot, a magnificent stronghold built entirely from enormous black stones crouched in silence.
There was none of the Blood Spear Tribe's clamor, none of the Bone Savage Tribe's sinister gloom.
The Black Mountain