The night remained thick as ink. Cold winds howled through the mountain woods, sweeping up dead branches and fallen leaves with a rustling hiss.
The occasional cry of a startled night bird only deepened the deathly silence of the woods.
Young Master Hai dared not pause for even a moment. He ran with every ounce of strength he possessed, not daring to slow his steps.
The terrifying scene of Yang Jing killing five Transforming Strength experts with a flick of his fingers in the Underground Palace kept replaying in his mind.
That unfathomable, savage strength clung to him like a nightmare. Only by fleeing for his life could he suppress the terror in his heart.
He ran at full speed like this for four whole hours.
Young Master Hai's legs gradually grew weak and sore, every step aching. More than half his hidden strength and internal qi had been consumed, and sweat soaked his entire body, plastering his clothes against his skin. He was a complete wreck.
Yet he still gritted his teeth and forced his way through the dense mountain woods ahead.
The moment he emerged from the woods, Young Master Hai stopped and leaned against a nearby tree, panting heavily.
He looked up and saw a sizable village before him.
The village stood on a plain, surrounded by many abandoned fields that laid bare the desolation of these troubled times.
At its very center stood a tall, imposing fortress built entirely from blue stone, an especially striking sight.
The fortress was high and sturdy, with thick walls and watchtowers at its four corners. Throwing ports covered its walls, giving it an air of stern vigilance. In stark contrast to the low village houses around it, it was clearly easy to defend and difficult to attack.
Yang Jing followed