The Undead Realm was a land of annihilation universally recognized throughout the Myriad Heavens and Worlds.
Across its vast territory spanning hundreds of millions of miles, there were no sun, moon, or stars, no spring, summer, autumn, or winter. Only boundless gray-black death energy remained between heaven and earth. Bitter, ghostly winds swept across the ages without ever ceasing, eroding mountains and rivers into decay and seas of bones into dust.
Every law of this plane gravitated toward death with an extreme, obsessive singularity.
Resentment drifted through heaven and earth, while shattered souls and broken bones littered the ground. From the moment ordinary undead were born, the Death Law permeated their essence, leaving them only three paths throughout their existence: devouring, plundering, and annihilation. Brutality, bloodlust, and disorder were the norm etched into the Undead Realm's foundations, and the unchanging laws of survival for its countless undead.
Yet in one corner of this vast, deathly silent Netherworld, Nether Valley was a pure land that utterly defied all reason.
Outside the valley, ghostly winds howled and death energy raged, but the instant one crossed its boundary, all the rampaging power of annihilation became peaceful. The death energy here was thin and docile, without wind or malice. Heaven and earth were quiet and stable, with no howling wraiths or battling undead, as though this were a sanctuary deliberately preserved by the laws amid a fallen hell.
The entire valley had remained as quiet as ever for millions of years, occupied by only two profoundly concentrated undead auras.
One aura was vast and deep, restrained rather than ostentatious, lying dormant like an abyss or a towering mountain. It remained still, but once it moved, it could overturn ten thousand miles of nether soil. It unmistakably belonged to an Undead Paragon.
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