There was no one in sight. Both the tightly-packed disciples and those stationed at the entrance of the mystic realm had vanished.
Gu Chaoyan's brows furrowed involuntarily. An unpleasant scent, the unmistakable stench of blood, pervaded the air, assaulting her senses. The intensity of the odor made it impossible to ignore.
Hadn't they entered the mystic realm just moments ago? Why was the smell of blood so overpowering here?
Surveying her surroundings, Gu Chaoyan realized they were in a decrepit, abandoned town devoid of any signs of life. Dilapidation ruled, with rampant weeds claiming the landscape. The atmosphere was heavy, damp, and unsettling.
Standing beside her was the Head of the Undead Race. He appeared strangely at ease in this eerie environment, even taking in deep breaths of the pungent blood scent.
Gu Chaoyan rolled her eyes at him, a reminder of their differences—she was nothing like a member of the Undead Race.
