It's night.
The wind in the mountain forest is particularly strong, the treetops rustling loudly.
Beside a mountain stream, Chen Yang is covered in bloodstains, his face slightly pale. The still-warm blood, trailing along the blade of the Ancestral Sword, continuously drips to the ground.
It's all someone else's blood.
Though he hasn't sustained any injuries, Chen Yang is already showing signs of exhaustion, his breathing becoming labored.
Yang Hu, beside him, is gasping heavily.
During this process, many were scared away, but even more were resolute and unyielding.
In their eyes,
Chen Yang is very strong, but after all this time, after constant wear and tear, he should be almost exhausted too.
It's like the darkness before dawn, just endure this moment.
Each one of them believed they would be the first to see the light.
In other words, as long as Chen Yang perished, the remnant map would belong to them.
Astonishing self-confidence.
