Zhao Ya and Kong Xiangdong stood atop a platform formed by accumulated snow that had not melted for many years, looking solemnly into the distance.
At this moment, the hillside was shrouded in a dense purple-red mist that extended upwards, piercing through the thick clouds above, creating a spectacular scene.
Moreover, a faint but mighty roar echoed from within the mist.
Seeing this, Kong Xiangdong couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine.
Just moments ago, he had used all his strength to follow closely behind Zhao Ya, narrowly escaping before the mist enveloped the entire mountain.
If he had hesitated even slightly during the process, he might have perished there.
Thinking of this, Kong Xiangdong couldn't help but glance at Zhao Ya.
Zhao Ya stood there with an air of calm, even a hint of curiosity in his eyes, making Kong Xiangdong murmur to himself.
