As soon as Sibuxiang had taken the Golden Toad, the circular hole above Qian Duoduo’s head suddenly closed.
Qian Duoduo’s forceful entry seemed to have angered something.
Qian Duoduo felt himself rapidly falling through a dark, cold, and slippery passage, being forcefully squeezed.
He fully circulated the Yongfu Henggui Gong and the Golden Life Devouring Dragon Art, his left hand pressed against the Golden Toad, ready to throw out dozens of Magic Treasures at any moment, and ready to take out dozens of corpse puppets at any moment.
The pressure in the passage grew stronger and stronger; an ordinary Cultivator might have been crushed.
However, Qian Duoduo had already compressed his Spiritual Vein more than ten times, so the pressure in the passage was merely child's play to him.
It felt like a brief instant, yet also like a long time had passed, when Qian Duoduo’s feet found no ground, and he landed heavily in a grand hall.
He bounced up, immediately took out Sibuxiang, rapidly circulated the Yongfu Henggui Gong and the Golden Life Devouring Dragon Art, and vigilantly scanned his surroundings.
The hall was extremely magnificent, with a throne in the center, upon which five flood Dragons were coiled, but there was no one on it.
Behind the throne was a Dragon Gathering Screen. Above the throne was a plaque with four large characters: “Only the Sect is Great.”
“Only the Sect is Great” meant that nothing was more important than the Sect.
Only a Sect Master could say such a thing. And the only place where such a plaque could be hung was the Zongshi Hall.
On each side of the hall were four chairs, and behind each chair was a golden pillar, on which were carved eight Spirit Beasts: a leopard, an elephant, an eagle, a mirage, a mountain ghost, a tiger, a Vermilion Bird, and a Kui.
Each Spirit Beast was baring its fangs and claws, displaying an extremely valiant demeanor.
On each chair, there was a motionless humanoid statue.
These statues had exaggerated expressions, with glaring eyes and furrowed brows, clearly indicating they were violent and bloodthirsty individuals.
“Where did Zhao Yanran go?” Qian Duoduo wondered.
There was no one else here, so he summoned the Golden Winged Bird and, through its eyes, looked around the hall.
After a careful search, Qian Duoduo found no trace of Zhao Yanran.
He slowly moved his feet, walking a circuit around the hall.
Besides the throne and chairs, there was nothing else in the hall. In front of the hall was a square cauldron, and behind it was an incense burner.
The main door was tightly locked, and the Formations on the doors and windows were intricate, not something he could push open.
The hall was filled with two kinds of mist: black and red.
The black mist had a foul smell; a slight whiff of it made one want to do evil deeds.
The red mist had a pungent smell; once it entered the nose, one couldn't stop wanting to fight and kill people.
At the same time, there was also a faint Spiritual Awareness in the hall.
This Spiritual Awareness was the same one that had previously determined who was the victor between Zeng Zifang and Zhao Yanran.
Qian Duoduo was not afraid of this; the Burial Instruments and chess instruments of the Refining Spirit Sect all had similar powerful Spiritual Awarenesses.
“Did Zhao Yanran take the wrong path and get teleported somewhere else? Or is it that her speed is slow, and she’s still on the way?” Qian Duoduo held his breath, pondering the reason for Zhao Yanran’s absence.
“It’s also possible that I was teleported to the wrong place.” Qian Duoduo suddenly thought of a possibility.
This was not impossible; he had used Sibuxiang to prop open the hole and forced his way in.
If this wasn't the Zongshi Hall, he wouldn't be able to get out, let alone return to the Refining Spirit Sect.
Qian Duoduo felt a surge of panic, and he patted Sibuxiang’s head, “Find a way out for us.”
Sibuxiang’s sharp horn gently nudged him, pushing him towards the empty throne.
“You mean the way out is on this throne?” Qian Duoduo asked Sibuxiang, surprised and delighted.
Sibuxiang was too lazy to bother with him; it lay down in front of the throne and comfortably closed its eyes.
Qian Duoduo took small steps towards the throne; only his faint footsteps echoed in the hall.
He looked back at the eight chairs and eight humanoid statues, then glanced at Sibuxiang, who was about to fall peacefully asleep, and cautiously touched the throne with his hand, then gently placed a small part of his butt on it.
