"So this is the Demonfall Pit." Xu Yan stopped, his gaze fixed on what lay ahead.
Following his gaze, one could see an enormous pit spanning more than a thousand li. Faint demonic qi rose from its depths, gathering overhead into vast, pitch-black demonic clouds that gave the place an eerily sinister air.
"According to legend, the Demonfall Pit was an important battlefield in ancient times, where tens of thousands of demonic cultivators fell. Even after countless years, demonic qi still seeps out. It is a perilous place for cultivators entering the Ancient Ruins Battlefield to temper themselves."
The records concerning the Demonfall Pit surfaced in his mind.
Soon, Xu Yan reached the edge of the Demonfall Pit.
The Demonfall Pit resembled an enormous basin, its terrain sinking lower the farther one ventured toward its center. Streams of demonic qi swirled through it, severely hampering cultivators' divine sense.
Whoosh!
Just as he was quietly studying his surroundings, a streak of azure light shot past him and plunged straight into the Demonfall Pit.
It was a flying boat radiating a pale azure glow, with three grim-faced old men seated aboard.
"A flying boat magic artifact!" A trace of envy appeared in Xu Yan's eyes. Every flying magic artifact was worth at least a thousand low-grade spirit stones, far beyond the means of ordinary cultivators.
He privately guessed that the three old men belonged to a fairly powerful cultivation faction.
Seeing other cultivators heading into the Demonfall Pit, Xu Yan hesitated no longer. He immediately activated his movement technique, leaped down, and swiftly pursued the three old men in the direction they had vanished.
The moment he entered the Demonfall Pit, Xu Yan felt the circulation of magic power throughout his body grow considerably sluggish. Wisps of demonic qi curled around him,