The place where Ling Xiaolong was standing was a sinister and foreboding realm, enveloped in perpetual darkness and saturated with malevolent energy. This land was completely barren and desolate, devoid of any signs of life or growth. Jagged, obsidian-like stony formations jut out from the ground, casting eerie shadows that dance in the dim red light.
A thick, suffocating mist hung heavy in the air, its tendrils twisting and writhing with an otherworldly presence. The atmosphere was thick with the stench of decay and corruption, assaulting Ling Xiaolong's senses with an oppressive weight.
The sky above was a deep crimson hue, as if it was stained with blood. Swirling clouds of darkness obscure any glimpse of stars, lending an ominous and unsettling ambiance to the surroundings.
