The night was deep.
The cold wind was like a knife.
Compared to Liuhé City, the wind in this mountainous wilderness was even stronger, coupled with its proximity to the sea, making one's face ache as it blew.
The trees swayed, and some weeds were blown flat against the ground.
The sky was filled with swirling yellow sand.
Only the towering Wulai Mountain cast a massive shadow on the ground, shaking one's senses.
Rustle!
Not far from Wulai Mountain, on a ridge, five or six people stood silently, the cold wind howling, making their robes flutter loudly.
The one at the front.
Wearing a white robe dancing in the wind, hands clasped behind his back, standing tall, head slightly raised, gazing towards Wulai Mountain in the distance.
To be precise, he was looking at the inscription on the smooth cliff face.
Hatred!
A very simple word.
Upon closer inspection, the strokes were somewhat chaotic, as if written with immense emotion.
