West of Yellow Maple Valley, amid the vast stretch of mist-shrouded mountains, Han Li—a mid-Foundation Establishment cultivator who had been forced to retreat on the orders of his Senior Aunt Hongfu after the sect's large flying vessel was ambushed—had now fled here in a sorry state with several fellow disciples.
This place was already far from where they had been ambushed. Their next rendezvous point lay ahead, and just moments ago, at the first rendezvous point, they had been ambushed again by Devil Dao fiends.
After a fierce battle and a desperate breakout, the two or three dozen people who had started out with them had been reduced by more than half in an instant. In the end, only the few people beside him had managed to break through and reach this second rendezvous point. Their situation could hardly have been more bleak.
However, no matter how confused, disheartened, or panicked they felt, they did not dare stop. They continued flying for their lives through Yellow Maple Valley's mist-shrouded mountains, carefully drawing closer to the second rendezvous point ahead.
Although they were now very far from the place in the south where they had been ambushed, they knew this area was still far from safe. During their escape, they had heard terrifying booms and surges of spiritual energy—and, amid them, what seemed to be several dragon roars.
Han Li knew there were no dragons in Yellow Maple Valley. There might not even be any flood dragons. The sect had only one enormous treasure capable of startling dragons: the Startling Dragon Bell.
His master, Li Huayuan, did have a golden-armored horned serpent as a mount, but that demon beast was still a serpent, not a dragon. It certainly could not make such a terrifying sound. Senior Aunt Hongfu likewise had no