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The Evil Ghost Faction was to the east of the Xumi Vein. Although not as narrow as the southern and northern stretches of the mountain range, neither could it be called short. However, as Zhang Fei Xuan and his group got closer, they inexplicably began to feel a chill.
Among the mountains, Wang Qizheng, gliding just above the ground, sped along in a trail of grey fog with a speed that was no less than that of the vast silver cloud above, reaching their destination at the same time.
It was convenient to fly through the high skies, and the fact that Wang Qizheng could keep up on the ground proved his speed was sufficiently fast.
He surged forward, looking like a huge grey mouse.
Wang Qizheng leaped, unfurling thin wings behind him, and riding the grey fog, he rapidly darted out of a dense forest, landing on the trunk of a large tree ahead.
Then, his body shook slightly, and he exhaled a breath of White Qi unconsciously, exclaiming, "Damn it, why is it cold?"
