Seeing Sun Wukong's deathly pale face, Chu Yang knew they had no other choice. Sorrowful Cloud Ravine should not be far from Longevity Mountain now. This was their only hope.
"Fine, we'll go to Wuzhuang Temple!" Chu Yang made his decision. "Master, rest for a while first. We'll set out at daybreak. There's something strange about the fog in Sorrowful Cloud Ravine. Bai Ling shouldn't be able to find us here anytime soon. Once dawn comes, the rising yang energy will disperse some of the fog, and then we'll move."
Tang Monk nodded without another word. He walked over to the fire, no longer recited sutras, and instead sat cross-legged to rest with his eyes closed. He needed to conserve his strength. He knew that on the road ahead, he could no longer be the burden who only knew how to cry for help.
Chu Yang set up several more concealed defensive formations at the cave entrance, then returned to the fire. He began fully circulating the Sword Soul within his body, absorbing the spiritual energy between heaven and earth to restore his depleted magical power.
The night remained long and cold.
The wind outside the bamboo grove still wailed mournfully.
Yet within this cramped cave, three beating hearts were like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
The darkness before dawn was always the deepest.
After an unknown amount of time, when an extremely faint streak of pale dawn struggled through the thick black mist of Sorrowful Cloud Ravine outside the cave, Chu Yang abruptly opened his eyes.
"Daybreak. Let's go."
Chu Yang stood up, extinguished the campfire with one sweep, and covered up the traces of ash.
Tang Monk quickly rose as well. He straightened the tattered undershirt he wore. Though he no longer had the splendor of