In the snow.
Several ghosts trudged across the snow. About twenty minutes later, one patch of snow suddenly stirred, and Mao Yong'an crawled out, gulping down air. His face had been frozen a bluish purple.
The Strong Man behind him remained motionless, dead or alive unknown.
Mao Yong'an did not even have time to check on him. He crawled out of the snow and struggled onward.
God Burying City.
It should be close.
"Old Liu, you're back so soon?"
"Don't tell me you came back empty-handed!"
Outside God Burying City, someone mocked him. The other merely glanced at him, casually lifting a corner of his coat to reveal a row of bulging cloth bags inside.
In an instant.
No explanation was needed.
Investigators returned to the city from all directions, each bearing injuries of varying severity.
Lu Wu, still in the form of a Boy, sat atop the city wall and watched them in silence.
Every team had set out at full strength, yet upon returning, their casualties averaged half their numbers. Fortunately, those who survived had all improved in strength to some extent.
But.
Why hadn't that young Daoist Mao Yong'an returned yet?
Lu Dongbin and Zhou Han had somehow already returned to God Burying City as well. They stood beside Lu Wu, gazing anxiously into the distance.
After all, he was an inheritor of the Daoist lineage.
Meanwhile, Mao Yong'an was facing the greatest crisis before reaching the city.
He was still buried beneath the snow, hiding from a passing Ghost King. Yet for some reason, the ghost suddenly stopped, looking around suspiciously as though it had sensed something.
Mao Yong'an's breathing was barely perceptible as he did his utmost to conceal his presence.
But.
An accident had happened just now. The weather had grown colder and