In the suffocating depths of the sect's main pagoda, Michael was led through a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors. The air grew heavy with a pungent odor that made him cringe, a nauseating blend of decay and human waste. Each step took him deeper into the heart of darkness, his heart pounding in anticipation of what awaited him.
As they descended, the atmosphere grew colder, chilling Michael to the bone. The walls seemed to close in, pressing against him from all sides. The faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance, a haunting melody that added to the eerie ambiance of the place.
Finally, they reached their destination—an austere chamber, devoid of any warmth or comfort. The cell, barely large enough to accommodate a single person, loomed before Michael like a cruel and unforgiving cage. Its grim walls seemed to whisper tales of despair and suffering, as if they had absorbed the anguish of countless prisoners who had come before him.
