Only then, as the image of the stick shattered into splinters flashed through her mind, did Zheng Wuyou realize that someone was missing from the group...
The unfamiliar group had started with five people. Now only four sat together.
Judging by the little black figures' shapes, she realized the one missing was the person who always seemed so artistic. She'd thought he'd talk as much as a top salesman, but when it came to getting things done, he was always as silent as Miao Laisheng.
"He..." Yuan Ling hesitated, looking at Zheng Wuyou with an awkward expression, as if there were something she couldn't bring herself to say.
"What happened to him? Ugh... Hurry up and tell me!" Zheng Wuyou turned excitedly to the side, her right hand brushing against the charred sheep behind her. The brief moment of sunshine had made her forget the pain in her injured hand.
She knew Yuan Ling never dragged things out,
so there was only one possibility: the situation she feared had come to pass.
It wasn't that Yuan Ling couldn't tell her. She didn't know where he'd gone herself.
Feeling embarrassed to admit it, Yuan Ling tried to change the subject. Only then did she notice the injury on Zheng Wuyou's hand. She grabbed it and asked, "You're hurt?"
"It's fine. The injury will be gone once we leave the dream. Yuan Ling! Don't change the subject!"
"Fine... When Ben Yu dodged that arrow, he accidentally fell and rolled across the ground several times. As luck would have it, he ended up covered in wood ash. It was strange—the Incandescent people who came running over seemed unable to see him. They just passed him by. I only know they circled around him several times, then left... After that, well, after that I