"It looks like we took the wrong path."
Yang Qing handed the rough terrain map to Bu Er and Jiang Zhizhou.
They frowned at the map and studied it for a long while before speaking. "According to this map, the marsh should still be two and a half kilometers ahead to our left. Why have we reached it already?"
Could the marsh move on its own?
"I don't know," Yang Qing said. "Perhaps no one dares travel through this area, so no one knows that the terrain here has changed."
Perhaps that was it.
"We're heading in the right direction, but we can't turn back now."
Yang Qing pointed at the sky, which had already grown dark, and said to Bu Er, "It looks like rain. Find somewhere we can take shelter."
Marshland stretched all around them, without any woods or vegetation in sight. A downpour was about to begin, yet Yang Qing and the others still had not found anywhere to shelter from the rain.
"Young master, there's nowhere to shelter. We can only sit where we are and wait for the rain to pass."
Bu Er found a patch of ground with a few rotting wooden stumps and helped Yang Qing settle down there.
They had brought oil-paper umbrellas, but judging by the sky, a torrential storm was coming.
There was no telling whether the umbrellas would be any use.
They had barely sat down when the raindrops began pelting them.
Fortunately, Yang Qing and the others had brought plenty of umbrellas, so the rain could not reach them for the moment.
It had been a long time since Yang Qing had encountered such heavy rain outdoors. Threads of cold seeped against his chest, but he could still bear it.
Before long, however, Bu Er's surprised voice rang