All the helicopters rushed to the small courtyard where Bipson was.
At this time, the drunkard observed the surrounding environment, then lay on the ground and looked at the tire tracks that had left. He frowned, then stood up and was at a loss.
"Sure enough, the clues that the Death Inquisitor gave us before were all false, misleading us," said the drunkard.
Willie raised his eyelids and waved his hand. "What should we do? Where should we search?"
"He's like a hunter now, covering up all the tracks. We have no choice but to search." The drunkard looked at the small forest to the west.
Willie followed his line of sight and also looked at the small forest. It was green and endless. There were only a dozen of them in such a large forest. How could they search through a large area?
The drunkard also noticed this awkward reality and said, "With Bipson's hut as the center, fan out in a 60-degree search."
It could only be like this for now.
