A wisp of hot air rose slowly from the dragon head on the bronze coffin, spraying water mist in all directions. In a short while, the altar was filled with mist, and a dark shadow flashed by in the mist.

Everyone was shocked.

"What is that?"

"That's... a coiled dragon?"

"Run!"

Jiang Fu stood calmly there, pulling everyone back. "Don't run. If what the mural says is true, then this dragon is dead; it's just a phantom."

"What if the mural is fake? What if the painting is wrong?" The person asking the question grew weaker and weaker. The mural was real, otherwise none of this would have happened.

Now we can only hope that the part of the mural depicting the coiled dragon is also true.

The dragon weaved back and forth in the clouds, its head appearing but not its tail. The people could tell that it was a dark dragon, as black as a dreamlike bubble, constantly weaving through the clouds without breaking out. The people were relieved.

A dozen minutes later, the ceremony ended and the clouds and mist dissipated.

The thirteen female corpses and the coiled dragon had all vanished without a trace, leaving only the bronze coffin in its original place, and a huge round door slowly cracked open beneath the altar.

Zhao Qixing couldn't help but curse under his breath: Holy crap!

"We were painstakingly searching for the mechanism on the altar, only to find the door was right under the altar! It's unbelievable!"

He spoke for everyone, and everyone felt utterly humiliated.

The wisdom of the ancients is truly not to be underestimated; they have completely outmaneuvered modern people.

The door opened, and everyone stood at the entrance, their doubts resurfacing: Should they go in or not?

"Brother Jiang, what should we do? Should we go in?"

“Go in. It was finally opened, why not go in? If we don’t go in, what if the door closes again? Then there won’t be another Mingxiao to perform the sacrifice.”

"Shut your mouth, you're always bringing up things you shouldn't talk about."

From now on, Mingxiao has become a taboo. A group of grown men can only leave by killing a woman. It's not exactly a matter of pride to talk about it.

Jiang Fu glared at the person who spoke, threw a cold firework, and saw that it was an empty passage with nothing else inside.

He waved and went in first.

After going inside, the door closed shortly afterward.

The group walked along the passage in front of them for a while, and when they reached the end of the passage, they were all stunned.

All around, exotic flowers and rare herbs abound, arched bridges and flowing water form a natural whole, and countless towering white trees grow here. The walls, made of some unknown material, emit a soft glow when a sliver of light shines upon them. Looking up, one can even see a patch of sky. Judging from the sky, the sun is already setting and will soon disappear behind the mountains.

If the outside world is hell, then this place must be heaven.

Someone chuckled wickedly, "Could this be the Ghost Mother's harem? It seems she knows how to enjoy herself."

Jiang Fu looked around. The Ghost Mother Kingdom was located in a place with mountains, rivers, dense forests, and deserts.

Is this a dense forest?

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of inspiration striking him.

"This is not the Ghost Mother's harem, but her underground palace."

An underground palace?

tomb?

Everyone was startled, and some looked at Zhao Qixing.

Zhao Qixing chuckled awkwardly, "Don't look at me. The little bit of feng shui I know is completely useless in this godforsaken place. The Ghost Mother Kingdom isn't arranged according to ordinary yin-yang feng shui at all. Take those thirteen female corpses outside, for example. From the perspective of yin-yang arts, thirteen is not an auspicious number. No emperor would use that number. This shows that the Ghost Mother has her own set of arrangement methods."