The land was barren and lifeless.
Cracked earth stretched in all directions, and the sky above was a dull, choking grey. A thick, poisonous mist clung to everything, laced with Yin Qi that chilled to the bone. The air was heavy, filled with the stench of rot and death. Scattered bones lay half-buried in the dirt—silent reminders of those who had fallen here long ago.
In the middle of it all stood a man.
He was tall and lean, dressed in a tattered robe, with long white hair flowing behind him like silk in the wind. His face was calm, almost cold, and his pale eyes showed no fear—only quiet confidence. He carried no sword, no weapon of any kind. He didn't need one.
Four Heavenly Corpses stood before him, radiating death and malice. Their rotting armor clung to decaying bodies, eyes glowing with a sickly purple light. They looked less like corpses and more like walking calamities, pulsing with Yin energy that twisted the air around them.
