Atop the White Elephant Mountain, Fang Lin and the others were constantly running towards the peak, with a dozen or so black-clad men fiercely chasing after them not far behind.
As Fang Lin ran, he tossed jade bottles filled with poison smoke behind him. Acquired over time, his stash of poison was plentiful. In face of imminent danger, regardless of whether he wished to parts with the poison or not, his own survival was paramount.
The poison smoke indeed had some effect. Despite the formidable skills of the black-clad men, they were not immune to all forms of poison. Inhaling the smoke would surely spell doom for them.
With the hindrance of the poison smoke, the black-clad men were unable to catch up with Fang Lin and the others instantaneously. However, the distance between the two sides was still progressively being closed.
