After the meeting, everyone split into three groups.
Li Jinghua led Du Gu Fu and some of the others to scout the Mist Forest.
Zhang Feng stayed behind because of a minor back injury, taking charge of caring for the wounded and preparing supplies for entering the forest, while Gao Cuilan, Ma Wencai, the five-person group, and the others remained to assist him.
As for Chen Xiaojun and the others, they went out with Chu Bohan and Feng Min to gather up stranded Soul Masters.
North of the camp, the terrain was complex and ever-changing. Based on the road conditions, six or seven winding paths had naturally formed, like the veins of the earth, each stretching toward an unknown distance.
The road Chen Xiaojun's group was on lay at the far western side, right against the edge of the Mist Forest. From time to time, they could glimpse the outlines of distant mountains, faintly visible through the morning mist and evening glow.
Over the past few days, Chen Xiaojun's group had been like a band of spirits weaving through the woods, constantly shifting nimbly between these roads, especially making frequent trips to the wider central routes—routes that were just as full of danger—to carry out rescues.
In a valley, a team of six or seven Soul Masters was fleeing for their lives. Behind them, nearly two hundred wolf bandits pursued relentlessly, the howls of wolves and battle cries tangling together, shaking birds and beasts into flight throughout the forest.
The team of Soul Masters was dressed in rags and covered in wounds, clearly having endured a long stretch of flight and fighting.
"Faster! Move faster!" Dean Isaac, the team's Team Leader, roared.
Yet even with all their strength, the wolf bandit pack still clung to them like shadows. Their