The setting sun sank beyond the edge of the Gobi Desert, and the sweltering wasteland bathed in the light of the stars and moon.
Dressed in a Daoist robe, Lü Yan hovered high in the sky, his face livid as he scanned the desert for a hundred li around, searching for traces of anyone.
Xi Yanjun waited at the fissure below and called up:
"Martial Uncle, could those three crafty brats still be down there?"
Lü Yan thought that impossible. Finding even one opportunity was already an extraordinary blessing. Even if they wanted to keep searching, they would have to return to the surface for supplies before going back down to search at leisure, not to mention that those three crafty brats had provoked him, the patriarch of the Divination Sect!
Would the three of them take the prize and then wait underground to die instead of running?
Following the sword marks they had left, Lü Yan had raced to the surface exit. He had not caught up along the way, and after emerging, he had found only a few minor cultivators gathering medicinal herbs nearby, along with a few birds. The three of them seemed to have vanished into thin air.
Could they really still be down there...
Or had they left through somewhere else...
Normally, everyone retraced their steps. Weren't they afraid of getting lost looking for another exit...
Lü Yan was thoroughly puzzled, but he still waited high above like a hunter watching a stump for rabbits. After all, descending into the Vermilion Bird Mausoleum was like diving underwater. Unless they found another exit, they would have to poke their heads out here sooner or later.
But after he had waited over an hour like this, Xi Yanjun suddenly shouted from below:
"Martial Uncle, there's movement down