The roar of raging flames and the smell of scorched wood spread from the village into the cramped room.
The boy hid beneath a table inside, praying over and over in the depths of his heart that no one would find him.
An Immortal Cultivator?
Zhou Yan was just an utterly ordinary boy, nothing more.
He wanted to live. He wanted to escape.
Just as he had on the day those slave traders had captured him.
But a sea of fire had already encircled the village, and enemies were guarding the only two roads out.
All Zhou Yan could do was pray, could do was hope that those evil cultivators would not find their way here.
That I can make it through this safely.
Liu Fanyue's face surfaced in his mind, and he recalled confronting He Wei at the village entrance earlier.
Now, Zhou Yan could no longer understand why he had taken such a risk.
His own life was all that mattered.
At first, screams came from far beyond the house. Then the wailing and cries for help drew closer and closer.
The nearer the voices came, the faster Zhou Yan's heart beat.
Only a few breaths had passed, yet to Zhou Yan, it felt as though several hours had gone by.
His mind had gone completely blank.
Then someone pushed open the door of the cramped house from outside.
It let out a piercing creak.
Zhou Yan held his breath.
His teeth ached, his legs began to go numb, and his palms were slick with sweat.
With the door open, the wailing and screaming in the village became even clearer.
Then came footsteps entering the house.
One step.
Two steps.
Hiding beneath the table, Zhou Yan saw a pair of shoes stop before him, along with the hem