The path toward the Merit Hall wound like a crimson vein through the mountainous landscape of the sect.
Han Yu followed it silently, his boots crunching lightly over the stone steps slick with the faint moisture of the ever-present red mist. The Blood Moon hung above as always, bleeding its ghastly light upon everything below. It painted the world in shades of scarlet and black, giving every shadow a sinister weight.
The Merit Hall came into view before long and it was immense.
Unlike the other pavilions Han Yu had seen, which were carved directly into the mountainsides, this one sprawled across several connecting ridges between the First and Sixth Rib Peaks.
Dozens of tall pagoda-like structures were joined together by elevated walkways and covered corridors, each glowing faintly with runic red light. The entire complex looked less like a hall and more like a fortress.
