The moon shone bright, the stars sparse.
Amid the vast mountain forests, a black figure stretched out his limbs among the sturdy old trees standing straight and tall. Using both hands and feet, he darted like a swift gecko, rising and falling lightly as he wove between light and shadow.
Fast. Very fast.
Since he had made it in time, he had to find the Mountain-Guarding Old Man and the others first.
He moved and looked, studying the moonlit forest, a sharp gleam gathering deep in his eyes. With his current eyesight, he could not quite see the night as clearly as day, but he could spot traces ordinary people would struggle to notice.
Along the way, plants and trees had been broken in many places. Clearly, fights had taken place.
There were bloodstains too, of course.
He even saw severed limbs, most likely left after fierce battles.
Who had been fighting whom?
Probably not the people from the martial sects. It should have been Ao Fei and the White Lotus Sect.
Lian Youming's thoughts raced as he rapidly reined in his breathing, drawing it inward. The deeper he went, the clearer the signs of fighting became. His pace slowed, and he grew wary.
Only when a nauseating stench drifted from a tangled patch of dense grass did Lian Youming stop. Following the smell, he parted the grass and saw a corpse with its breastbone smashed in. It was almost completely rotten, crawling with maggots and bearing signs of being gnawed by wild beasts. Even its intestines had been dragged out. It had been dead for at least ten days, perhaps half a month.
A black-and-white Peking Opera Mask hung from the foliage beside it, marked with a few spots of dried blood.
Lian Youming really could not stand the