Now, everyone felt something was wrong.
"Here... is this the hell? Are we transmitted to the hell?" A rogue cultivator said, looking pale.
"Don't blather. There is no hell at all! We are living people, how can we be transmitted to hell? There is neither bull's head nor horse's face here, nor a Yama judge." Rebuked another rogue cultivator with the magnificent figure, but he had a look of panic. Obviously, he was not as easy as he said.
A depressing and eerie atmosphere enveloped everyone's mind.
"I think we may have been transmitted to a magic matrix of inscription." Lin Xin, the handsome teenager from Northern Academy of yellow shirts who had never spoken, said slowly, "I have carefully observed along the way the topography of this street and the shops on both sides, they seem to
