It stank. It truly stank, like fermented swill, sour and foul with a hint of something sharp.
Yet the smell gradually cleared his groggy head.
Neville's nose twitched twice. He neither opened his eyes nor got up, instead doing his best to remain exactly as he had been.
He quietly took stock of his surroundings. His memories still ended at the moment he had been waiting with his friends for the circus to begin, but something had clearly gone wrong.
The uneven ground dug painfully into his back, but the surroundings were even worse. It was cold and damp, with a chill that seemed to seep into his bones.
Was he near water? Or inside a cave?
Feeling the slightly stale air and smelling the mildew, Neville had a sudden thought-underground!
Most likely, he was somewhere underground that had been sealed off for a long time.
Where were the others?
Then Neville suddenly thought of Zhang. If Zhang was here, he would have woken up before him, wouldn't he?
After all, his months at Wudang had given him some understanding of China's Daoist Order. Although both belonged to orthodox Daoist traditions practicing dual cultivation of nature and life, his master, Sect Leader Zhou, often spoke scornfully of the Old Celestial Master.
He even called him an old donkey, meaning that he dragged the Daoist Order forward tirelessly, just like an old donkey.
Yet on a few rare occasions, he had expressed admiration for the Celestial Masters' Mansion's Golden Light Spell. Besides, a wizard without his wand-at that thought, Neville hurriedly and cautiously reached toward its familiar spot.
Sure enough, his wand was gone.
That was exactly what he had feared. A wizard without a wand was like a lion without claws or fangs. The Daoist Order was different, though. Their