Southwestern Great Jin, the Yin Fiend Mountain Range.
The mountains stretched for ten thousand miles, shrouded year-round beneath lead-gray clouds. Jagged rocks covered their slopes, and the sparse vegetation consisted mostly of dark, twisted trees and ferns. A faint odor of sulfur mingled with decay hung in the air, while the spiritual energy was cold and tainted. Ordinary cultivators were reluctant to set foot here, for this was not only the habitat of several venomous demonic beasts, but also the seat of the Blood Soul Sect, a major power of the Great Jin Demonic Dao.
Deep within the Yin Fiend Mountain Range, above a secluded gorge perpetually veiled in natural Yin Fiend Qi and untouched by sunlight, space rippled slightly. An almost transparent figure emerged silently like a ghost. It was Han Li, who had concealed every trace of his aura.
He hovered in midair, his spiritual sense seeping downward as silently as the softest gauze. Within the gorge, fiendish energy was so dense it seemed tangible, and overlapping layers of restrictions exuded the stench of blood and the wails of resentful souls. These interlocking restrictions were vicious and insidious. Once triggered, they could not only trap and kill intruders, but also defile magical treasures and corrode the divine soul. An ordinary Nascent Soul cultivator who ventured inside would face certain death.
At the deepest point of the gorge, a sprawling complex of black palaces, brutal and menacing in design, stood against an enormous dark-red cliff that looked soaked in blood. Bridges fashioned from bones and chains connected the palaces. Countless low-ranking disciples, pale-faced and dull-eyed, scurried among them like worker ants, either transporting materials or practicing sinister cultivation arts. Farther within, several powerful Nascent Soul auras could faintly be sensed. One had reached the peak of the Nascent Soul