Hill gripped the longsword tightly, surveying the labyrinth woven by decaying cobwebs around him.
"We have taken a crucial step, but a greater crisis is approaching, everyone must prepare to face the unknown fate that is about to descend..."
The twilight gradually spread, with the remnants of the sunset still lingering in the sky, as the Witch Rider Corps ventured into the forest shrouded in ancient legends—the Holy Land of the Elf Race.
Here, amidst the lush foliage, a faint green light emanated as if continuously absorbing the Spiritual Qi of heaven and earth day and night.
A gentle breeze brushed through the forest, carrying the natural scent of flowers and earth, and every leaf seemed to whisper ancient secrets.
The giant tree revered by the tribe as the "Tree of Life" stood towering in the heart of the forest.
Its roots intertwined vertically and horizontally like a vast net deeply embedded in the ground, with a subtle green radiance entwined around its surface.
