At the very end of the underground palace, there was a blaze of fire as radiant as the sun, spreading out like countless strands of aurora. One could vaguely see ornate feathers swaying in the wind, and even fleeting silhouettes of birds appearing momentarily before vanishing.
This was like a sacrificial ground, a temple scattered with shattered pill furnaces and ghastly human bones.
Massive, ancient stone steps led upward—a staircase ascending to the main hall.
Su Youzhu felt a familiar aura surging through the air. It was the same godly might that had once left her breathless on the Haiqing Highway, as if transporting her back to that stormy night, forcing her to relive despair and rage.
"Youzhu."
Lu Zijin raised her hand and gently stroked her trembling back. In truth, she also recognized the source of this aura, for even though she had arrived late on that highway six months ago, she had still sensed that overwhelming divine might.
