In a dense mountain forest not far from the Misty Sect, a winding trail snaked through the trees.
Ye Hua rode a steed as white as snow, racing past like a bolt of lightning at a speed that left people speechless.
Nearly a hundred cultivators accompanied her, riding close behind on their steeds, not daring to slacken in the slightest.
Little Chicken Kun had now grown up, with dazzling, brilliantly colored feathers that resembled an exquisite work of art.
He stood steadily atop the white horse, almost as though he had become one with its back. Meanwhile, Huang Rong remained concealed in the shadows, following the party every step of the way.
Once they reached the foot of the Misty Sect's mountain, they would go their separate ways.
After all, the Misty Sect was not somewhere any stray cat or dog could casually barge into.
Any unfamiliar cultivator who dared approach the sect without permission would be mercilessly driven away.
Before long, Ye Hua and the others drew near the foot of the Misty Sect's mountain.
At that moment, Ye Hua's emotions grew increasingly tangled, her heart filled with an indescribable tension.
She silently prayed that Ying Ming Hao had spoken the truth, holding firmly to the belief that he had not perished in that mysterious, unfathomable Bamboo Sea.
She only hoped that, after returning from her training journey across the South Sea Continent, she would see Ying Ming Hao quietly waiting at the foot of the mountain, ready for their reunion...
Huang Rong was equally tense and conflicted, harboring the very same hope as Ye Hua-that Ying Ming Hao would appear before them safe and sound.
After all, for more than two years, she had been trapped in endless suffering, unable to escape.
Although she sometimes found it