"This isn't a tomb for the dead. It's a grave for the living."
Hui Yulong could not help speaking, his voice trembling. No one contradicted him; they were all too busy struggling themselves. Someone was singing in the darkness. What had been a silent, dark place now rang with voices—Ding everywhere.
Yet even listening closely, they could not necessarily make out what those people were saying.
Lin Feng said nothing, because this was their collective hallucination.
He had several ways to confirm that, apart from the seals, there was nothing before them.
Behind him, the others were constantly assailed by hallucinations.
Thick, black blood streamed from their noses.
They seemed oblivious.
All they felt was a needlelike pain stabbing into their minds.
Whenever that pain struck, they saw their dead ancestors emerge from the darkness.
A marketplace bustling with the living.
Their family's ancestral hall.
And a way out of this place.
All kinds of hallucinations appeared before them. Even Lin Feng took on several different forms, leaving them unable to tell which was real and which was false.
With no other choice, Lin Feng chanted incantations as he walked.
Even so, his group struggled to advance.
The closer they came to the depths of the darkness, the stronger the hallucinatory force became.
Broken seals littered their path.
The stench of rot grew thicker. Amid that overpowering smell and the people sweating from nerves, Lin Feng's senses had become somewhat numb to everything but the wind.
Although Lin Feng's leadership had kept their losses slow, only five or seven people remained by now. Everyone else had fallen behind, and falling behind here meant only one thing.
But even those following Lin Feng might not survive to the end.
He was leading them toward a dead end. The exit lay