Sunlight spilled onto this land marred with scars.
In the ruins, the temporary bonfire had burnt out, the last sparks emitting a wisp of curved white smoke, rising into the air.
The sword-bearer sat by the bonfire, his face not looking very good.
Qing Ying and Hong Chuang huddled together, staring blankly at the ashes, silent.
"Let's go, he's surely beyond saving now."
This must have been the umpteenth time Classical Music, in his gold-rimmed glasses, had urged them to move on.
"Just wait a little longer." The sword-bearer's face was tense as he kept shaking his head.
"Wait for what?" Classical Music said impatiently, "This is the Black Death! With our skills sealed, every extra minute we stay here increases the risk. If we don't hurry to find clues, we're all doomed!"
After entering the Spirit Realm, the Exorcists had been dispersed around the outskirts of Florence.
