One day later.
Southern Continent, Mist Mountain Range.
Blood Demon Mountain.
When the wind sweeps across Blood Demon Mountain, it always carries with it fine red sand grains, hitting the ground with a crisp "sasha" sound, like countless dry finger bones gently tapping.
If someone looks up, they'll find the entire mountain range is solidified in blood red, from the foot to the peak, not a speck of other color in the rock debris covering the ground.
When you step on it, the loose sand slides into the cracks of your boot sole, with a strangely warm touch, as if stepping on a pool of undried blood, and with a little pressure, a "squeaking" sound emerges from beneath your feet, like crushing ancient bones to dust.
The sky is forever shrouded in a dark red cloud mist, and when sunlight pierces through the clouds, it's filtered into murky blood-colored spots, spilling onto the sand, making the whole mountain appear to flow slowly.
