The underground river within the culvert had long dried up. Some rocks had collapsed in the distance, blocking the flow of the river. What remained were also jagged rocks of grotesque shapes, resembling evil spirits baring their fangs and brandishing their claws in the dark. It was as if it was the entrance to hell.
To avoid exposure, Zhang Yuanshan did not light a match. He depended only on his eyes, with opened Aperture, and used the faint light coming from outside as his guide to move forward. Fu Zhenzhen was holding firmly onto his sleeve tightly, following behind him. Though she could not see as well as he could, she felt a strange sense of safety, as if she could wholeheartedly trust and depend on him.
Bypassing a strange-looking stone, Zhang Yuanshan stopped moving forward. If he went any further, he would not be able to notice any changes in the sandstorm at once, thus missing his opportunity to attack his opponents.
