Crack… crack… crack…
In the center of the Desolate Sacred Land, the Wind Hall Master continuously formed one hand sign after another.
The transparent cracks grew increasingly intense and conspicuous.
The Hei Feng stood still, with relentless cracking sounds. An oppressive, almost explosive tension akin to a brewing storm engulfed the surroundings.
Everyone stared intently ahead, the atmosphere supremely solemn.
Even Xiao Yi bore a grave expression.
He couldn't quite describe this feeling, only sensing an all-encompassing unease.
It was as though some ancient and powerful aura was pressing upon him.
With his current cultivation, he felt as insignificant as an ant before this aura.
"Whew." Xiao Yi took a deep breath, calming his mind.
He knew that this oppressive aura dominating the area emanated from the center of the Desolate Sacred Land, precisely where the Wind Hall Master stood.
"Something's not right." Xiao Yi narrowed his eyes, murmuring to himself.
