At night, it started to rain in the mountains.
Outside the cave, the damp air, mingled with a touch of disarray, created a clamorous atmosphere, a tumultuous symphony of nature's power.
Zheng Fan sat silently, chewing on a grass stem. Opposite him, A Ming reclined, his waterskin casually at hand.
In A Ming's own words, sometimes one drank blood for survival; other times, for the sheer pleasure of living.
Helian Baozhu slept soundly inside the cave, wrapped tightly in a military bedroll.
Although they intended to use her, neither Zheng Fan nor the Demon Lords were so base as to torment a young girl.
Only these three were inside the cave.
Xue Three prowled the perimeter. As an assassin, he was confident in his ability to scout for the team.
The blind man sat in a tree outside the cave, draped in an animal hide blanket. The signal inside the cave was weak; it was stronger outside, much like a home Wi-Fi router.
