Volume One, Chapter 285
After killing several more plants, Zhao Fu vaguely sensed something. He flew with Lang Qing to a gravestone. The stele was a hundred meters tall, made of a material like green jade. The three words "Tomb of the Shaman" were carved upon it, their elegant strokes fine as bone, seeming to shift in endless variations.
Lang Qing asked curiously, "What place is this?"
Looking at the gravestone, Zhao Fu replied, "I don't know, but there may be something inside that I need. Stay here for now."
Lang Qing smiled and nodded.
Zhao Fu flew into the gravestone and arrived in a gloomy, dark-gray space. It seemed to be a passage, with rock walls all around.
The moment Zhao Fu appeared, scarecrows one after another slowly rose from the ground, their eyes flickering with eerie blood-red light. Those pairs of crimson eyes stared at Zhao Fu, especially chilling in the darkness, enough to make one's hair stand on end.
After appearing, these scarecrows made no other movements. They simply stood there stupidly.
Zhao Fu was somewhat puzzled. He took a step forward, and the scarecrows also took a step forward. Frowning at this sight, Zhao Fu took another step forward, and the scarecrows likewise took another step forward.
Were these scarecrows imitating him?
After thinking for a moment, Zhao Fu swept out two fingers like a sword, sending a sharp black crescent slashing forward. It cleaved several scarecrows apart in a single strike, scattering straw everywhere as though they had no ability to resist at all.
Yet then something bizarre happened. The severed scarecrows slowly climbed back up, their bodies reassembling as the scattered bits of straw flew back onto them on their own.
Pain shot through Zhao Fu's body, as though he had been struck by