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The air was tarnished with blood and dust, so foul that it choked the breath, with weak fires mingled with the last dying flashes of warning lights, casting a dark, unstable glimmer.
The walls had been crushed by immense forces, damaged wires and mechanical structures sparkled with eye-piercing electrical sparks; fierce gusts blew from the depths of the pitch-black crater, hot and wild, emitting a heartbreaking 'whistling' sound, resembling the sobs from the Yellow Springs Hell.
The battle between the Fengdu Guards and Black Market cultivators was not yet over; they had fought deep into the market, and now only the aftermath reached here, making the wild winds sweep and the ground quiver slightly, still carrying echoes of the calls and clashes from the fight.
From a pool of blood and flesh constructed from the bones and semi-coagulated blood of the dead, a figure slowly stood up.
