The inside of the gate was pitch-black, its depths unfathomable.
A decayed stench drifted faintly out from within.
"So it really is a key."
Zhiwei put away the jade token and turned to look at the others.
"Once we're inside the tower, stay close behind me. Don't make a sound, and don't touch anything."
"Un… understood."
Qing Jun spoke in a small voice, obediently clasping both little hands behind her back, as if to prove her innocence.
They entered one after another.
The passageway was long and narrow; on both stone walls were carved continuous murals, the brushwork crude. In the paintings, armored monsters clashed and slaughtered with countless Cultivators in the sky, corpses piled like mountains, seas of blood surging.
"Armored People battling Cultivators…"
Zhiwei followed the murals along, her brow knitting tighter and tighter.
Something was wrong.
She knew that paintings were born from the heart.
