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Li Yuan pressed on.
In the blink of an eye, the scenery shifted.
The narrow, meandering path opened into a vast expanse. A low roar echoed through the air, the sound of flowing water, and beyond the gray mist, a boundless wasteland unfolded.
Off to the side, a dark and sluggish river twisted across the barren plain. The water had a weight to it, almost metallic in nature, and though it churned and rolled, its sound was deep and heavy like a thousand chains being dragged through iron.
Within that flow, countless shadowy figures were being carried avail, ghostly forms drifting with the current.
Li Yuan's heart tightened.
It was the Ghost Lake, but something was different. There was a dull yellow hue mingling in the waters now, something turbid and sickly. It triggered a memory, something from before he crossed into this world, the legendary river of the underworld.
The Yellow Springs.
And beyond the river, rising from the gray horizon, was a mountain. It stretched endlessly, its ridges dotted with strange protrusions, some looked like boulders, others like gravestones. Its peak pierced the low-hanging, ashen clouds above.
It reminded him of another myth. Another name from old tales.
The Mountain of Yearning.[1]
His expression grew solemn.
This wasn’t Yan Yu’s domain. It was something else entirely.
And then another realization struck him.
Long ago, he had lost the ability to enter the ancient ghost street. No matter how much he suppressed...
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