In the dim cave, several lamps flickered fitfully.
Several figures hurried through it.
Wave after wave of cold yin energy drifted from deep within the cave. As it passed through the cracks, it made a sharp, grating sound.
Along with it came bursts of whispers that made their skin crawl.
The group quickened their pace. At the same time, they formed hand seals, further activating the talismans pasted over their ears to ward off the whispers that seemed to seep through every opening and keep their minds clear.
The murmurs carried no discernible message. At least, no one here could grasp their meaning. All they could draw from them was chaos and madness!
At first, many had ventured rashly into these cave Ruins without understanding the danger of the whispers, with grave consequences. Even now, with talismans made specifically to ward them off, accidents still happened from time to time. Every disciple who came here trod carefully.
For that very reason, they especially admired—and worried about—the True Disciple who guarded this place most of the time.
A few steps later, they spotted the white-clad figure and felt a little more at ease. They slowed, then cupped their fists in salute. "Greetings, Martial Aunt."
Xiang Ran, dressed in spotless white Daoist robes, opened her eyes. A wisp of black energy flickered through them and vanished.
"You're here? What is it? Has another disciple been ambushed?"
"No." The disciple in the lead stepped forward. "We followed your orders and gathered in shelters outside the Ruins. No one has left the camp without permission. Even when acquaintances or elders from other sects invited them away, no one actually went. So no one has fallen into another trap."
"Good." Xiang Ran nodded slightly and let out a breath of relief.
Since a disciple of