This is an empty field, with the ground as smooth as a polished mirror, without any bumps or pits, not even a single pebble. In the center of this hundred-meter wide open space, there is a massive rock, rising from underground to connect to the ceiling a hundred meters above. The cylindrical rock is about as thick as could be encircled by a dozen people, with its surface covered in mottled and uneven scars and densely packed dents from heavy blows—it has witnessed countless blades, spears, and swords over the ages it's endured.
On one side of the field, a subterranean river flows quietly, without a sound. It's like a piece of silk gliding gently across a woman's smooth skin, ethereal and serene.
