Curling incense smoke, waves of chanting.
It looked the very picture of sanctity and solemnity.
But the reality was quite the opposite.
Within the temple, chilling winds howled, cold to the bone, with the wailing of ghosts and howling of wolves. The surging dark aura was like beacon fires of war, resembling an unfathomably deep demon den—terrifying. Even a surface glance conveyed an ominous, evil nature.
And upon the altar of that temple.
Lay a space unto itself.
As far as the eye could see, there were more than a dozen ancient jars.
All were pitch black.
However, the difference was that these ancient jars were slightly larger, thick as if embraced, resembling large water jars more than anything, and they also appeared even more worn, obviously having been here for a longer time.
Around these jar-like vessels, spiraled layer upon layer of thick iron chains, binding the worn jars tightly.
With the fragmentation of the golden armor.