"An oil-painting brush! Yuan Ling, hurry and find the oil-painting brush! Use it to black out the countdown!"
Zheng Wuyou's frantic voice rang in Yuan Ling's ears. Feeling around, Yuan Ling regretted pulling the spear from her hand.
Because they'd lost their only landmark!
Supporting herself, Zheng Wuyou slowly sat up and impatiently yanked the spear out of her right hand with a wet pop.
She helped Yuan Ling search the grass and wood ash with one hand. She'd fallen only a step away from where Ben Yu had been stabbed.
The oil-painting brush shouldn't have fallen far.
But in true darkness, people often couldn't tell where they'd already searched.
Feeling around for things in the dark was basically like groping around a wall.
They used their touching feet as the center point. Each of them searched a semicircle along her own body, feeling through the ash for the fallen brush.
Then Yuan Ling felt a pair of worn cloth shoes in the dark, and recoiled in fright.
But an old hand reached out of the darkness and seized her.
"Ah! Wuyou!"
The sudden movement made Yuan Ling cry out.
"Yuan Ling!"
When Zheng Wuyou turned at once, the sensation of Yuan Ling's feet against hers had already vanished, and Yuan Ling's cries had abruptly stopped.
All that remained around her was an endless darkness.
She turned and assumed a defensive stance.
But unused to fighting one-handed, she was practically disabled and couldn't struggle at all.
She'd said before entering the dream that this was where her journey would end...
She hadn't expected it to actually happen.
Zheng Wuyou smiled helplessly and wrestled with her thoughts.
She knew that if she wanted to save Yuan Ling, she had to let that hand grab her.
So she continued feeling around the