The cold wind howled, and sunlight pierced through the thin clouds, casting a blinding glow over the white ice field.
The mountains rose and fell in dramatic waves, shrouded in layers of shadow. Within their depths stood a pitch-black high tower, its sharp spires like straight claws reaching toward the sky, as if about to tear through the heavens, evoking a deep sense of dread.
This was the Polar Night Demon Tower.
At this moment, Mantou and his two companions were at the very bottom of the Demon Tower.
The Natural War Maniac led them into the depths of a secret chamber and activated a mechanism.
"I fought my way here and found this thing."
It was a strange jug. The rim was adorned with a ferocious dragon head, and from the jug came countless wails and moans, as if numerous souls were trapped inside, struggling in agony, accompanied by a deeply concealed laughter.
Singo carefully observed the jug, seemingly trying to discern its secrets.
"This thing feels familiar..."