In the vast expanse of the cultivator domain, at its southern border within the star-born reaches, lay the 'Dread Spire Wastes,' a death land, a place even the mighty feared to venture into.
It was a region where the boundaries between two planes of existence had collapsed long ago.
The sky above hung fractured like shattered glass, bent and twisted by collapsed gravity wells, while below stretched nothing but mountains of crystallized voidstone, jagged and alien.
The air itself was heavy with dark haze that gnawed at one's vitality with each breath, turning even the strongest cultivator's body into a candle burning far too quickly.
This place was a land of death.
If one did not fall victim to a sudden gravity storm or the tearing winds of the void, then the haze would hollow them out, leeching their strength.
