After finding the stone tablet and confirming the direction it pointed, Yu Xing's gaze first fell on the middle of the clearing: a tattered tent, worn down by time until it nearly blended into the forest.
"Before we head over there, let's take a look here." He spoke, then led the way toward the tent.
Qu Xuanqing and Lingren followed close behind.
The tent's entrance had long since been covered by drooping vines and thick moss. Yu Xing reached out, a faint trace of curse power swirling around his fingertips. With a light swipe, the tough vines silently fell away as if corroded, revealing the dark entrance behind them.
A much stronger stench hit them, a mixture of mold, dust, and something stale.
Yu Xing ducked and went inside first.
The tent was even smaller and more oppressive inside than it had looked from the outside.
Light filtered through countless holes in the canvas, forming dim yellow beams that illuminated the dust drifting through the air.
The scene inside the tent seemed frozen in time thirty years ago.
A low bed, crudely lashed together from rough branches and vines, stood in a corner. The animal hide spread across it had rotted black, blending into the dead leaves beneath it. Only its general shape remained.
An overturned, rusted tin cup lay beside the foot of the bed. It seemed to have once held some liquid, now long since dried and carbonized.
In the middle of the tent lay a small pile of campfire embers that had gone cold countless years ago. Among the gray-white ashes were several charred branches that had not completely burned.
Several empty cans were scattered beside the embers. Their labels had long since rotted away, leaving only rusted metal shells. Beside one of the cans lay a