"Young Master Qin."
Zhao Lei glanced back and spotted the streak of light trailing far behind them.
"That Di Jie is following us. Should we shake him off?"
"No need."
Qin Yan answered calmly without even turning his head.
"As long as he doesn't bother me, leave him alone."
"Understood."
Zhao Lei replied and said no more.
The group continued following the swirling ball of blood, flying toward the northwest of Greatwood City.
Behind them, Di Jie followed closely.
Ahead, the blood sphere pointed the way.
Half an hour later.
The blood sphere stopped moving. It hovered in midair, slowly spinning in place.
Everyone looked ahead and saw a dense mountain forest, ancient trees towering into the sky and vines tangled throughout.
Not far in front of them, a figure lay on the ground.
It was Zhu Ming.
Zhu Ming's eyes had rolled back, his face was pale as paper, and white foam leaked from the corners of his mouth.
His body twitched from time to time, as though he were still enduring some invisible torment.
One of the Shadow Guards cautiously approached Zhu Ming, crouched down, checked his breathing, then examined his pupils. He returned to the group and reported with a complicated expression, "Young Master Qin, Chief Zhao—Zhu Ming has passed out."
A wave of sharp breaths rang out around them.
Passed out?
Zhu Ming was no Martial Artist unfamiliar with suffering.
In the Shadow Guard Bureau, he endured prison tortures every day!
Spirit-iron whips, black branding irons, fire spirit rods, water torture by drowning... all kinds of brutal punishments had been used on him in turn, yet Zhu Ming had always gritted his teeth and endured them. No one had ever seen him pass out.
That showed just how strong his willpower was.
Yet now, a mere