The autumn rain contained coldness. When it landed on a person, it would silently seep into their body. It wasn't easy to disperse and finally, it would turn into bone-piercing cold.
The tune was like this.
Xu Qing shivered uncontrollably. He thought of the pair of women's boots he had seen walking over in the blood fog when he was at the scavenger campsite with Captain Lei in the jungle of the forbidden zone.
At that time, he, who was only a Qi Refinement rogue cultivator, had felt a similar coldness that froze his soul and sealed his body.
Now, his cultivation base was extraordinary but he still had the same feeling.
That long, ethereal and feminine singing voice seemed to have materialized and became a soul-stirring funeral tune, causing dozens of the thousand-odd cultivators in the surroundings to tilt and fall from their location.
They fell into the deep, dark pit as though they were devoured.