111 Luding

Two hundred li to the northwest from Yushan fortress, where Wuyi's faction had camped, Luding sat beneath an ancient Divine Oak that had witnessed countless cycles of the moon and sun. The tree stood tall and expansive, its offspring filling the space between the northern hills and the ever-deepening Qinglian River to the south.

Luding was in a meditative stance, his aura a far cry from the modest cultivator he once was. Now, when he stood, he resembled a foreboding specter. The gaps in his dark, enchanted robes revealed skin of a deep black crimson hue, as if soaked in demonic Qi. Resting on his lap was a staff, hewn from the wood of a tree cursed by dark lightning during the Blood Moon. His elongated fingers, akin to the claws of a demonic raven, sketched complex sigils in the air, emitting a malevolent, dark purple flame as he reached into the Abyss to connect with his network of demonic informants.