The Death of the Young Master

The area outside the temple felt profoundly serene, with lush, verdant trees swaying gently despite the numerous holes and damage that marred the vicinity from recent battles.

Not far from the temple, Zhou Yan, crucified by a sinister pillar of darkness, thrashed about in a fit of deep frustration. His face contorted with anger and desperation.

"Fuck! Why can't I move?!" he bellowed, his voice echoing with a mix of rage and helplessness.

His body, arms, and legs trembled as he struggled to break free from the shadowy restraints, but his efforts were utterly in vain. The darkness held him fast, not yielding an inch.

BOOM!

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion reverberated for miles around, sending a plume of thick white smoke billowing high into the sky.

Zhou Yan's expression grew stern as he turned his gaze towards the source of the explosion, which was unsettlingly close.