However, though the morning sun had risen, a dense black fog still clung to the sky above Cold Crow Valley like an inverted cauldron. It sealed the entire valley, and no matter how the dawn light struggled, it couldn't penetrate in the slightest, leaving the valley dim as if eternal night had descended.
Beneath this malevolent shadow, one could faintly make out a stretch of gray, barren, scorched earth where not a single blade of grass grew. There wasn't a hint of life in the air.
Instead, a bone-chilling sense of decay and Death Qi permeated the air, enough to make one shudder.
In the very center of Cold Crow Valley stood a grotesque, pitch-black fortress. Its walls were covered in monstrous reliefs, and it radiated a thick, ominous aura.
Surrounding the fortress, towers soared into the clouds like loyal Demon Guards, standing grim sentinel. Atop these towers, one could faintly see cultists with blades in hand, standing watch.
