Yan Ji sat idly by the side of a small lake, the only place with water in this boundless expanse of black sand, and it was a pond of dead water at that.
This lake had been artificially created, and the water was condensed together using spells by everyone collectively.
This was the only place in this area of black sand that was inhabited, home to at least thirty monks. Some would fall every few years, but new monks would always come in.
A place devoid of spiritual energy and vitality was enough to drive one mad, and without any sound, no one could spend hundreds of years here in a normal state of mind.
Some monks who had fallen into the Blood River gathered together to establish a settlement. They didn't band together here to fend off beasts or the like, but rather to live in each other's company, to chat, at least having a spiritual abode.
