Deep in the land of Southern Sichuan, within a mountain stronghold enshrouded in black fog, about a hundred people knelt on the ground, seemingly waiting for the arrival of some important figure.
At that moment, a ghostly howl emanated from a cave, causing everyone to lower their heads even further.
Then, slowly emerging from the cave, was a man in a black robe, with long black hair. The man had a tall figure but his skin was sickly pale, devoid of any color on his face. Around his body lingered streaks of black fog, dense yet not dissipating.
"Greetings to the Young Sect Master upon concluding your retreat."
A chorus of voices spoke in unison, their sound shaking heaven and earth.
"Is that Lin Mo dead?" The young man's first words upon exiting were to ask.
