The sound of singing echoed faintly amidst the drifting joss papers.
The voice was cold and eerie just like this place.
Everything felt more like a ritual that had been going on for an unknown period of time.
In Xu Qing's eyes, the pentagon wooden hut seemed to be a different kind of altar.
This was because on the five corners of the wooden hut, where the chains were connected to, there were three terrifying corpses.
The first corpse was a corpse that was drenched from head to toe. It had rotted extremely severely and its appearance couldn't be seen clearly. Even its gender was unclear.
It knelt facing the wooden hut and wore a tattered black robe. It was as though it had experienced countless years and was riddled with holes.
However, the continuously falling corpse water seemed to have some unimaginable power that preserved the scene of its death in the past.
Even though time had passed until now, it was still the same.