To the southwest of the Sun Moon Mountains, a muddy dirt road cut through a dense thicket.
At that moment, ten burly men silently entered the thicket and crouched on either side of the dirt road, looking ready to rob passersby.
"Hey, hey, hey, brothers, can you all hear me?" The leading man held a brick phone and asked in a low voice.
"Number One, received!"
"Number Two, received!"
"Number Three..."
Nine steady voices came through the brick phone in succession, firm and powerful in tone, like well-trained soldiers.
"Very good." The leading man spoke in a deep voice. "When the Netherbird shows up later, none of you are to act rashly. Follow my orders. When the Netherbird reaches a suitable position, I'll shout, 'Demacia!' Then all of you charge out of the grass together, knock the Netherbird unconscious, and bring it back to South City. Understood?"
The other nine burly men seemed rather speechless about the slogan "Demacia."
But a captain's orders could not be defied, so the nine men answered in unison, "Understood!"
The leading man nodded in satisfaction, pocketed the brick phone, and took out a gleaming golden staff, gripping it in his hand.
This burly man was none other than Huang Yuanming.
As for the other nine, they were naturally members of his Flying General Special Forces.
The ten of them squatted in the thicket for an entire day.
During that time, let alone a Netherbird, not even a single passing villager appeared.
This made Huang Yuanming wonder—did anyone actually use this dirt road?
"What's going on?" Huang Yuanming took out his brick phone and asked, "Was our intelligence wrong, or did the Netherbird discover us and take a detour?"
The nine team members did not answer, because they did not know what was happening either.