Altar in the Illusion

The aurora borealis curled and slithered in the night sky. There were strands and layers of them, a much charming reflection of the roiling waves on the sea below. The cliff-face to the side of the giant summit was so even that it felt like it had been sliced through by a knife. At that treacherous location, a cultish ceremony was underway.

Gu Jun could feel his vision being pulled over. His head was aching and tightening, but in contrast, his heart rate was relatively stable, at least much more in control compared to before. It had to be the effect of his newly-acquired skill.