The boundary of the Wildlands stretched out like a void. Gray-white mist shrouded everything, and the footsteps of the four were swallowed by the emptiness, leaving no trace. Ye Chenyu looked up. There was neither sun nor moon, only the thick luminous haze enveloping the Wildlands in a gray world. Light seemed drained, leaving only faint outlines of distant features.
Scattered across the Wildlands were enormous skeletal fragments, grotesque in form. Some resembled massive vertebrae half-buried in the cracked earth, others like faceless beast heads, hollow eye sockets seemingly staring ahead. A chill rose in Ye Chenyu's heart—these remains clearly belonged to ancient colossal beasts, each bone radiating an indescribable sense of oppression, recording centuries of blood and wailing across the Wildlands. He murmured, "These… once-living beings, in the end, all became sacrifices for the Wildlands."
Liyue Ying's steps were steady, her gaze sweeping over the bones, face calm but tense. Xuan Ye furrowed his brow slightly, his fingers moving over the rune shards as he sensed disturbances hidden within the Wildlands. Xing Lan walked silently beside Ye Chenyu, occasionally whispering to the wind; her eyes were as deep as the sea, seemingly capable of piercing the haze and glimpsing countless hidden chasms.
Suddenly, a cold wind stirred the gray mist. Among the distant skeletons flickered an eerie apparition. Ye Chenyu's heart tightened—it was no ordinary shadow, but the remnant of some colossal being: headless and faceless, yet with a vast wingspan outlined against the mist. Its shadow danced across the Wildlands, each beat of its wings distorting the air, twisting the dust and bones beneath it. Ye Chenyu felt dizzy, as if the Wildlands itself were responding to the shadow, the laws of heaven and earth subtly warped by its movements.
"Di Jiang…" Ye Chenyu instinctively tried to speak the name, but his tongue faltered. The twisted legend was far more terrifying than the apparition before him. The faceless god's remnant emitted an unnerving presence despite lacking any features. It was not a complete form, but like a fragment of the Wildlands projected outward, each movement signaling that the natural order here had long been overturned. The Wildlands itself was a silent altar, and this remnant the echo of divine movement.
As the shadow passed among the skeletal remains, the light mist seemed drawn into the void. The temperature dropped sharply, and the air smelled of decay and dust. Xing Lan sensed the anomaly, a thin sheen of sweat forming on her forehead: "It… does not fully exist here, like a remnant watching us from the depths of the Wildlands." Xuan Ye's expression grew grave. Slowly, he said, "The rules of the Wildlands are older and harsher than anything we've experienced in the South or West Mountains."
Ye Chenyu clenched his fists. Fear mingled with an inexplicable thrill—this Wildlands seemed like the ultimate depths of the Spirit Realm, each step teetering on the edge of the unknown and the void. He felt a connection between the shadow's movements and the skeletal remains, as if each beat of the wings summoned ancient forces, and the Wildlands responded. The air trembled, even the mist undulated.
Liyue Ying slowly raised her hand, speaking softly to Ye Chenyu and Xuan Ye: "Stay alert. Every bone, every wisp of mist here could conceal a trap. Do not be deceived by its remnant." Her voice was cold as a blade, yet in the emptiness of the Wildlands, it rang clear. Ye Chenyu's heart tightened. He felt almost consumed by the presence of the shadow, gray-white illusions flooding his mind, as if he were becoming part of the Wildlands itself, drawn into an eternal sacrifice.
Xing Lan's ghostly light flickered again. She raised her hand to touch the mist, as if resonating with the shadow. The gray-white fog receded slightly, yet the remnant remained faintly visible, as if reminding them: the true depths of the Wildlands had not yet revealed themselves.
The four exchanged glances and moved forward in tacit agreement, navigating the passage formed by the piled skeletal fragments. The wind of the Wildlands was low and drawn-out, like whispers, calls, and warnings. Ye Chenyu felt fear and resolve intertwining in his heart. He understood that every step in the Wildlands could become a sacrifice, yet only by venturing deeper could they uncover the secrets at the Spirit Realm's core.
Beneath the gray-white mist, the Wildlands stretched to the horizon. The shadow continued its distant dance, the world seemingly paving the way for an ultimate, unknown ritual. Ye Chenyu raised his hand, gripping the rune shard firmly, and stepped forward with slow but resolute footsteps.