In the continent of South Phoenix, there was a restricted area to the east of Antlerville.[1]5

The dark cloud cover seemed like the hand of a giant, hanging over the ruins of a village. It seemed like it could drop at any moment and crush the village out of existence. The village looked like it had been scraped clean by the winds of time. There was no color visible; everything was a desolate gray.1

The only exception were some swaying lanterns in the middle of the village that were the color of blood. They also provided the only light, and added the oppressive, gruish atmosphere. The lanterns were like souls drifting about randomly. Occasionally, a lantern would stop in front of a withered corpse, from which it would extract a final drop of blood to make itself even redder.0

Creak.0

As one of the blood-red lanterns stopped in front of a thatched hut, a hand suddenly shot out from the window, grabbed the lantern, and pulled it inside.0

The owner of that hand was a young man of about twenty-four or twenty-five years of age. His daoist name was Master Freespirit, and he was tall, muscular, and good-looking. However, there was a deep frown on his somewhat ashen face. He looked at the shriveled, blood-red lantern in his hand, and his expression shifted to one of measured determination. As the saying goes, when you start down a path, you have to walk it to the end. Ripping open the lantern, he found the blood core that formed the flame and quickly devoured it. Instantly, some of the color returned to his face. Heaving a sigh, he leaned back up against the...15