In the dark mountain forest, gusts of chilly wind penetrated to the bone.
Li Muyang, looking at the scene ahead, felt a tingling sensation on his scalp.
"This must be the last hurdle, right?"
After ten consecutive days of strenuous effort, Li Muyang had accumulated experience and familiarized himself with the attack patterns of these supernatural beings through a cycle of saving, dying, saving, and dying.
Finally, along with Little Wild Grass and Wei Sandao, he had reached the edge of the vast mountains.
According to Wei Sandao, they were only about twenty-some miles from exiting the mountain range, where they would no longer be pursued by the supernatural beings.
However, in Li Muyang's view, under the dazzling stars, the space between the trees filled almost entirely with these malign entities.
Those beings, with their bizarre shapes and twisted faces, were eerier and more abstract than the ghosts in horror movies.
