A night passed.
As dawn began to break, the three clusters of death aura in the mist vanished once more.
Lu Chen rose to his feet and stretched his limbs.
He decided not to go in just yet, but to visit Blackstone Market first.
The miners who had escaped said that something was calling from within the mist.
That call might be related to the Demon Kings—or perhaps to something else.
Blackstone Market had already been swallowed by the mist, but those miners had lived there for decades. They knew the surrounding terrain and the distribution of the mine tunnels better than anyone.
If he could find their foreman or an old miner, perhaps he could learn something useful.
Having made up his mind, Lu Chen turned and sped toward the camp behind him.
Upon returning to camp, he found the soldier on watch and asked, "Among the miners who escaped from Blackstone Market, are there any foremen or veteran miners? Anyone familiar with the terrain?"
The soldier thought for a moment before replying, "There's one. His name is Old Qian. He's over sixty and mined at Blackstone Market for forty years. He was among the first to escape and is still alive. He's being kept in the tent to the west."
Lu Chen nodded and had the soldier lead the way.
When they reached the western tent, the soldier lifted the flap, and Lu Chen walked inside.
The tent was dimly lit. A gray-haired old man was curled up in a corner, his eyes tightly shut and his lips bluish. Death aura coiled around him, far denser than around the others.
Hearing the movement, the old man opened his eyes. His clouded gaze shifted before settling on Lu Chen.
"Y-you... who are you?" His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper