Dugu yan was curled up in the corner of the wall, the duster left with only half a bamboo handle, still trembling as he begged for mercy: "Mr. Shi, please raise your noble hand high! I'm willing to hold your horse and steady your stirrup! Mr. Shi, spare my life! For the sake of the pitiful souls of my five dead sons, won't you?"
In front of the pass, the poisonous miasma surged and rolled; rotting flesh, shattered bones, and venomous moss intertwined, paving an ink-dark Hellish tableau. The blood mist steaming around Blood Venerable twisted and coiled like a living thing, dyeing a ten-zhang radius into a viscous scarlet purgatory, the air thick with nauseating scents of rusty iron and decaying corpses.
