Bartlett stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing towards the unreachable distance.
The cliff's sides stretched far beyond his sight, deep into the darkness that even the Soul Fire couldn't penetrate. The abyss below was seemingly bottomless; if one were to accidentally fall, there was no telling where they would end up.
Being in his undead form had rendered Bartlett's sense of smell incredibly weak, to the point of being almost non-existent. This was precisely why the Death Knight could fight foul-smelling undead creatures, like Rotting Pioneers and Zombie Dragons, with undivided attention and full force.
However, Bartlett swore that he could smell something extremely peculiar at this moment. The scent seemed to be wafting from below and far beyond the cliff, evoking an indescribable, eerie, and hair-raising sensation.
"I don't like this place, Big Uncle," said Little Ghost, floating nearby but refusing to approach the edge of the cliff. "Let's grab the stone and leave quickly."
