The magic runes on the scroll began to surge rapidly, twisting on the scroll like maggots, finally forming a sudden black fissure large enough for a person to pass through.
Li Qing remained silent for a moment, hesitated briefly, took a deep breath of Long Qi, and cautiously stepped forward, holding his breath as he stepped inside.
...
...
Darkness!
Coldness!
The oppressive dark clouds seemed ready to press down, and the air carried a pungent smell that resembled rotting flesh.
What met his eyes first was a road paved with brown-yellow bricks, flanked by tall, unnamed trees, whose leaves fluttered rhythmically as if breathing with a silent breeze.
Though it might seem an odd description, that was Li Qing's impression.
These trees were alive.
Fifty meters down the avenue stood a rather ornate gate, constructed from red bricks stacked neatly, with two large iron gates opening outward, leading to a towering, massive edifice that loomed into view.
