It was another new day.
The two of them ventured deeper into the Black Forest once more. This time, Lin Xuan decided to explore farther in, into an even more remote area.
The trees here blotted out the sky, leaving the forest dim. Thick layers of decaying leaves covered the ground, soft beneath their feet, while the air reeked of damp rot.
Zhong Ling stayed close behind Lin Xuan, clutching the hem of his robe in fear. She didn't dare run off like she had before.
As they crossed a steep ravine, Lin Xuan's ears suddenly twitched.
He stopped and listened closely.
From deep in the forest ahead, the sharp clang of weapons rang out, mixed with angry shouts and several piercing screams.
"Brother Xuan, what's wrong?" Zhong Ling asked quietly.
"Someone's fighting up ahead," Lin Xuan replied gravely.
A fight in such a remote wilderness was usually a bad sign.
He had no intention of getting involved, but the despair and brutality in the sounds stirred a trace of compassion in him.
"Stay here. Don't move. I'll go take a look," Lin Xuan instructed Zhong Ling.
He blurred into motion, his steps utterly silent. Like a wisp of smoke, he crossed the forest in a few bounds and reached the edge of a clearing.
He hid behind a massive old tree and looked ahead.
The sight made his pupils contract slightly.
Seven or eight corpses lay sprawled across the clearing, the ground stained red with blood.
Five or six martial artists armed with swords and sabers remained. They stood back-to-back in a crude formation, staring at their enemy in terror.
And they had only one enemy.
He was an old monk dressed in a plain white robe.
The monk was gaunt, with strikingly unusual features. His face was expressionless,