"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
During the time they had been talking, they had already traveled very, very far across the desert wasteland.
According to Cang Lang, they seemed to have only one hour of travel left.
Yet at that very moment, gusts of cool breeze swept toward them.
The desert wasteland was scorching hot.
That faint breeze made Qin Shaofeng feel a wave of relief.
But he had only just felt that brief comfort when his expression immediately turned grave.
He hurriedly looked toward Cang Lang and the white-robed old man.
He could clearly see the terror in both their eyes.
"That Death Storm is coming?" Qin Shaofeng asked in a low voice.
"The wind is rising! The wind is rising!"
The white-robed old man immediately shouted, "There is no time to waste! Anyone who can carry someone else, carry someone else! We must hurry onward at the fastest possible speed!"
"Those carrying people, look carefully at whom you are carrying! If they have no cultivation potential, or if they cannot survive anyway, put them down and switch them for people with potential, as well as all children!"
"Run! Run! Run!"
The instant the white-robed old man finished shouting, he abruptly changed direction.
He swept three nearby young people into one arm and took off toward the front at full speed.
What further explanation was needed?
Everyone already understood the situation.
Qin Shaofeng and the others naturally did not dare hesitate either.
They each found several people to carry.
"I am already crippled. Leave me alone and go!"
"My right arm is gone. Even if I survive this desert, I will never amount to much. Take someone else with you!"
"Let those capable of surviving live!"
"I am already old and do not have many years left. Go carry someone else!"