The desert wind continued its relentless assault on the lonely Tingyue Inn in the wilderness.
The sound of the wind chimes incessantly echoed.
In a flickering candlelit guest room, the round-faced young girl Zhao Zhi'er spread a sheepskin map across the table with a flourish, her rounded fingertip heavily pressing on a marked canyon at the northern foot of the Ten Thousand Mountains.
"Senior Brother Shen, look, according to the Master Elder, the Dragon Demon Clan's Blood Pool is hidden here. As soon as the sandstorm stops, we'll set out immediately. If the Yanrong barbarians get there before us..."
"Zhi'er!"
Shen Muheng immediately covered the girl's mouth, "Do you think those people are deaf?"
He cast a wary glance at the tightly closed door.
From the hall, the noisy sounds of the Yan Rong People drinking and playing games were clearly audible.
Zhao Zhi'er shook off his hand, her almond eyes wide open:
