They braved ancient trails, ventured into Manchuria, traveled west through the passes, and crossed the southern seas.
These were the paths traced by Chinese migrants since ancient times, but every one of them had been marked by treachery and bloodshed, strewn with thorny obstacles.
Take the journey into Manchuria, for instance. Gold prospectors, ginseng diggers, bandits, refugees, peddlers, soldiers, and brigands had all plunged into it, yet many had never made it out again.
If there was one difference between traveling into Manchuria now and in the past, it was probably that the road beneath Xiao Ran and his companions' feet was a little easier to walk.
The three followed the main road, passing many abandoned villages and towns along the way.
The farther they went, the more abandoned settlements they saw.
In truth, even before the Lost City descended, the population across the three northeastern provinces had already dropped dramatically.
In some places, barely a few households remained in an entire village.
And after the Lost City descended, things only got worse. The region seemed to have become a paradise for evil spirits.
Evil spirits roamed everywhere, and human lives were worth less than dogs'.
The three had originally planned to fly straight there, but once they entered Manchuria, Xiao Ran began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. The sensation intensified as soon as they took to the air.
It was as if some unseen force of law were at work: the higher they flew and the faster they went, the more pronounced the curse's effects became.
Even Xiao Ran, who could briefly resist the curse with his Flood Dragon Soft Armor,
couldn't do anything about the fact that Golden Toad Son and the Tiger Demon couldn't withstand it.
So they had no choice but to travel on foot.
They hadn't