"Yellow sand? What’s going on!"

Upon seeing the yellow sand, the martial artists were startled and exchanged glances.

Fear had already appeared on many faces.

This is Obsidian!

Strictly speaking, Blood Ridge belongs to the outskirts of Obsidian, but it’s still grasslands.

Moreover, when we first came in, there was no sandstorm at all; the grass was lush, perfect for grazing.

No wasteland, how could yellow sand appear?

There was no wind before, but now a sinister wind has arisen.

"Look!"

A martial artist exclaimed, pointing to the ground, his voice already trembling, "The grass... how did it all wither!"

Upon hearing him, everyone looked down at their feet.

At some unknown time, the originally verdant grassland had turned entirely yellow and brittle.

The speed of this decay was incredibly fast.

Many clearly remembered that the grass was still green just a few minutes ago.

"What the hell is happening!" A young martial artist in a white robe couldn’t hold back and bent down to grab the bandit’s neck, roaring, "Talk! If you don’t, I’ll kill you!"

"Fool, you’re going to die. Go ahead and kill me; I can’t die anyway."

The bandit laughed loudly, eyes full of mockery.

"You!"

The white-robed youth raised his knife, about to strike, but was stopped by the person next to him.

"At least, we still have spiritual power within us now. As long as we have spiritual power, we’re not afraid of any threats."

"That’s right, my spiritual power is still there. We won’t fear this bunch of degenerates? We’ll face combat with combat, water with land! Fear nothing!"

The martial artists encouraged each other, but still couldn’t help but tremble at the distant yellow sand.

How did this well-kept grassland suddenly produce yellow sand?

Everyone occasionally glanced at the withered grass on the ground, feeling uneasy.

Fear stems from the unknown.

They knew nothing about Blood Ridge.

This seemingly peaceful grassland may already be seething with hidden dangers.

"Since he’s stubborn, let’s torture him first, avenge our fallen brothers!"

The white-robed youth lifted his sword and swiftly severed the bandit’s arm.

"Oh..."

The bandit screamed loudly but looked very excited.

"Old man will remember you, and later I’ll chop off your limbs!"

He stared at the white-robed youth, eyes full of malice.

"Still dare threaten me? I’ll kill you first!" The white-robed youth struck again, cutting off the bandit’s arms entirely.

Many martial artists had previously died at the hands of this bandit, so no one stopped him from doing all this.

"Haha, kid, congratulations, you’ve got a ticket to hell."

The bandit laughed loudly, widened his eyes, and spat a mouthful of bloody water at the youth, "Grandson, kill me!"

"You think I don’t dare?"

The youth was enraged, and without waiting for his companions to intervene, he plunged his knife down.

Killed the bandit!

"This yellow sand might be dangerous, everyone must be careful."

The martial artists gathered together, holding their weapons, not daring to be careless.

They all still had spiritual power in their bodies, and were not too afraid of this sudden yellow sand.

But the yellow sand ultimately arrived so mysteriously, leaving the martial artists on high alert.

"Where’s Trent Marsh’s tent?"

Someone turned to look.

"Trent Marsh has already moved inside; those bandits don’t seem to dare approach them."

"Bah! Could it be Trent Marsh’s doing, letting his people impersonate bandits and kill our people?"

"It’s hard to say, but right now we must band together to figure out how to survive!"

The speed of the yellow sand was getting faster and faster.

Before long, it reached the martial artists.

When the sandstorm blew past, they only felt themselves blinded, instinctively raising their hands to shield their eyes.

It seemed this yellow sand wasn’t anything special, just an ordinary sandstorm.

Just as everyone was starting to relax.

The lead martial artist suddenly felt a pain in his neck.

But his eyes saw his own body.

A knife had appeared from nowhere, cutting off the lead individual’s head.

The martial artist closest to him saw this scene and shouted loudly, "Be careful, there’s something in the yellow sand..."

Before he could finish his sentence, this martial artist also fell.

"There’s danger, everyone strike! We all have spiritual power, we’re not afraid!"

Unable to see, the martial artists wildly brandished their weapons.

Even so, people continued to fall one after another.

"This is truly uncanny." Master Nine Ghosts sat on the ground, his tent long since blown away.

He also couldn’t see, feeling a total darkness around him.

But Master Nine Ghosts wasn’t worried; the guy in front of him was blind.

Blind people don’t need to see, so this yellow sand barely affects the guy in front of him.

"Very strange." Julius Reed sat cross-legged on the ground, with a long knife laid across his legs.

"Remember to protect me when there’s danger." Although facing the sandstorm, Master Nine Ghosts still felt he couldn’t open his eyes.

When you can’t open your eyes, you can’t see.

Even though he’s a psychokinetic, his range of perception is extremely limited.

"No problem." Julius Reed spoke calmly, "I’m here."

The Eye of God slowly opened.

The golden light emitted from his eyes instantly dispersed the yellow sand.

"Puppets?"

Julius Reed was somewhat puzzled.

What he saw were dry, emaciated bodies wielding rusty knives, lurking in the yellow sand, striking whenever an opportunity arose, causing a person to fall.

A skeletal soldier carrying a battered knife approached Master Nine Ghosts from behind, slowly raising the blade!

"I feel someone behind me." Confidently, Master Nine Ghosts reached out and grasped the air.

But the blade still fell hard!

Julius Reed swiftly drew his knife!

The sword aura pierced through the yellow sand, striking the skeletal soldier.

Crash!

The skeletal soldier promptly collapsed, splintering before Master Nine Ghosts.

Soon after, these bones began to recompose, blown away by the yellow sand, disappearing into the air.

Occasionally, skeletal soldiers struck down by martial artists also disintegrated instantly upon falling, blown away and vanished by the sandstorm.

After a while, the yellow sand dissipated.

The ground was littered with corpses.

At least two or three out of every ten martial artists were dead.

When they arrived, there were over a thousand of them; now fewer than three or four hundred remained.

"What just happened?" Master Nine Ghosts felt a chill down his spine and couldn’t help but ask.

"I now understand why so few people survive after entering Blood Ridge." Julius Reed stood up, dusted off his behind, and headed in Trent Marsh’s direction.

"This place is fraught with danger; those who arrive are destined to die sooner or later."

"Hey, tell me what just happened? I clearly heard something fall, so why is everything around as clean as can be?"

Master Nine Ghosts clung to Julius Reed, demanding answers.

"There are minions of the Grim Reaper in the sandstorm. Earlier I took care of an enemy for you; otherwise, you’d have met a veritable tragic end."

Julius Reed, gripping Knife Abernathy, stepped forward on the dried grass.

"What’s happening! I clearly killed something, so why can’t I see the corpse?"

"What exactly is in the sandstorm! If this continues, are we all doomed to die in here?"

The martial artists’ spirits were already starting to collapse.