In the depths of Changsheng Mountain lies an ancient forest.
This forest appears swallowed by darkness, as black as ink, with not a sliver of light able to penetrate it.
The withered trees stretch upwards like the claws of evil spirits abruptly sprouting from the Netherworld, their roots deeply embedded in the ground, exuding the menacing decay of ages past.
The bark of the trees is cracked, resembling twisted faces of agony, silently narrating the eerie history of this forest.
Amidst the trees, an elusive black mist coils and swirls like a ghost, as if alive, wrapping tendrils around the withered trunks.
A mysterious layer of moisture covers the ground, as if it were a vast swamp, ready to drag any living beings stepping foot there into an endless abyss.
Occasionally, a cold wind of unknown origin blows, causing the trees to creak eerily, while the black mist drifts with the wind, altering its shape...
"Are you sure we want to go in?"
