A few hours later.
The inside of the cave no longer looked wild or natural.
Stone floors stretched forward in straight lines. The walls were carved smooth, with old marks that looked like seals and symbols worn down by time. Broken pillars lay on the sides, and collapsed roofs hinted that this place had once been a well-built underground structure, maybe even an ancient sect.
Grisham and Heilam stood at the front of a wide stone hall.
A dry rattling sound echoed from the darkness ahead.
Then the poison skeletons appeared.
One by one, they walked out of broken doorways and cracked corridors. Their bones were dark green and black, stained by poison miasma. Some still wore bits of old robes and armor. Green mist leaked from the gaps between their bones.
These were ancient Spirit cultivators who had died long ago and had been turned into undeads.
They were not as dangerous as the poison undeads from earlier. Their movements were stiff. Their attacks were simple.
