"Wow! Wow!"
In the black of night, crows flew chaotically.
The dense forest was crisscrossed, the light of candles and lanterns flickering.
Chaotic Burial Mound, seemingly because of the numerous dead buried there, was not desolate; instead, it bloomed with green trees and dense undergrowth.
Yin Fog rose, blurring any human figures within a hundred meters.
The dim lighting, combined with the slippery ground after a rain, caused people to fall occasionally.
Among the group, there were those who were faint-hearted.
As they walked, they surveyed their surroundings, always feeling as if something lurking in the dark mist was watching them, sending chills down their spines.
But remembering Wang Daoxuan's instruction, no one dared to speak.
Li Yan, naturally, led the way at the front.
With his left hand on the hilt of his blade, and in his right, he carried a bamboo pole.
The advantage of his smell superpower was particularly evident now.
