The woman left the moment she said she would, leaving the Corpse Infant staring in astonishment. His expression could not help darkening. After a while, the corners of his mouth twitched, and a faint sneer appeared on his small face:
"Hmph. It's just as well you're not coming. I, Zhao, can take the treasure alone all the same, and I won't have to share it with anyone."
After saying this, the Corpse Infant opened his mouth and spat out a stream of grayish-white gas. It wrapped around his body, and he flew forward.
At the same time, Lin Xuan stopped in his tracks, his face full of gravity.
"Young Master, what is it?"
Lin Xuan did not speak. Instead, he turned his head and carefully surveyed the surroundings. There was nothing unusual. Could it really be that he was overthinking it?
Yet for some reason, Lin Xuan felt uneasy in his heart, with no clear cause, as if some danger were about to approach.
As the saying went, caution never led to great mistakes, but he could not very well give up halfway because of this vague and elusive feeling. So Lin Xuan heightened his vigilance while continuing to walk forward.
The time it took to burn an incense stick passed. Lin Xuan looked at the scene before him and deeply furrowed his brows.
At this moment, he was standing in a thick fog. The fog was somewhat viscous, and what was even stranger was that it actually had the effect of blocking divine sense. Yet it could not be called any sort of restriction. Lin Xuan had used divine abilities several times, wanting to disperse it, but before long, it gathered back together again.
But that still did not amount to much. After all, all along the way,