C312 Fann Qishui's Grief

The Xingmo Palace stood majestically against the mountain, its base a labyrinth of innumerable caves.

Fann Qishui gripped the iron door handle with force, the rusted gate creaking ominously as a streak of dark yellow rust marked the rock wall.

Brushing the yellow rust from his palms, Fann Qishui pointed towards the pitch-black cave and said, "This is a disused passage for servants