Time flows on, like a fleeting steed passing through a crack, and in the blink of an eye, two years have quietly slipped away.
In these two years, the invasion of the demonic cultivators has become increasingly rampant.
The Wanzhe Waters have inevitably been affected as well.
Thankfully, for the time being, no one has set their sights on the Purple Bamboo Mountain.
This deep night, the inky sky presses down on the earth like a massive black silk, heavy and oppressive.
In a hidden mountain forest, a group of demon cultivators is gathering, with a stifling and eerie atmosphere.
A Golden Core demon cultivator, hidden within the rolling black mist like a demon god from hell, his expression extremely cold, slowly began to speak:
"This time, the target is the Rain Pavilion, famed for its crafting of magical puppets."
