"Who are you?"
"The great Hastur!"
"It is rare for someone to call themselves great."
"...Hastur."
"...Where is this place?"
"The land under the gaze of the great Hastur!"
"But you said before this is my Hell?"
"For greedy souls, this is true Hell. For those with steadfast faith, this is merely a wilderness. Only those who lack neither reason nor luck can escape this illusion."
Zheng Qing stood under the huge Bronze Gate, with the Yellow-clothed Man wearing a white mask standing in front of him, their question and answer session resembling the interaction between a studious scholar and a teaching master.
If it weren't for the tentacles writhing behind the fog.
The corner of Zheng Qing's eye caught those writhing shadows, and immediately his eyes stung as if facing the harsh cold wind in winter, causing him to quickly avert his gaze and focus his attention on the entity claiming to be 'Hastur' in front of him.
