"Stay a while longer!"
"Help us find Guyan Mountain! 'Seal the wolf at Mount Langju Xu, offer sacrifices at Guyan'—it feels awful if those two aren't paired!"
"Or at least help us find Qinian Valley! It's closer!"
Special Affairs Bureau personnel and archaeological experts clustered around Shen Le, tirelessly trying to persuade him. But no matter how they pleaded, Shen Le only shook his head desperately like a rattle drum:
"No! No! I can't sense Guyan Mountain at all! If I could, I would've pointed it out ages ago. But I can't sense any resonance from it or Mount Langju Xu!"
"Forget about Qinian Valley even more! I don't want to look for it! Based on Mongolian burial customs, anything that could rot has probably rotted away. There's no way we could find it!"
"I've done everything I can! I'm leaving!"
Amid a sea of regretful gazes, he jumped into a car, raced to Ulaanbaatar, and caught the earliest flight back home. The moment he returned to Zhuxi Town and sprawled out on the sofa, his phone immediately rang.
"You're home?"
"Yeah..." Shen Le lay there lazily, sinking his entire body into the soft sofa. He did not even want to move a finger.
A Silk Skirt flew over, its three thousand strands of dark hair streaming behind it, and attentively held the phone before him so he could chat without exerting the slightest effort.
"What about you, Gu?"
"I just got back from a meeting..." Gu Yulin's face was greenish-black, with two enormous dark circles beneath his eyes. One look told Shen Le he had endured inhuman torment—
Shen Le asked curiously:
"What did they say at the meeting?"
"Probably something like, 'Liu Yalou, write this down...'" Gu Yulin looked half-dead, his eyes barely open as he smoothly recited: