Shanhai Pass.
Late at night, the stars and moon were nowhere to be seen.
The last wisps of signal smoke drifted feebly upward. The ground was littered with countless corpses, their blood long since dried and turned black. A gaping hole had been torn in the hundred-meter-tall black city wall, as if punched by some colossal beast. The sight was horrifying.
Beyond the walls, a sinister wind howled like the wails of ghosts and gods, chilling the soul.
Shanhai Pass had stood for over four hundred years, predating the founding of the Great Yan Dynasty. It had been repaired twenty-three times and had repelled demons and foul creatures on numerous occasions. This was the first time in history it had ever been breached.
On a clearing dozens of miles from Shanhai Pass, a magnificent complex of halls and palaces had appeared at some unknown time. Numerous fragrant candles were lit, and in the ink-black darkness, the complex shone like a beacon.
