Eight hundred miles east of Nine Peaks Mountain, in a certain valley. Yuan Zhen, holding the Divine Communication Mirror, ventured into the depths of the valley.
Thin silver mist spewed from the copper mirror, forming a vague phantom image on a piece of open ground.
Upon closer inspection, it was indeed Luo Ding.
"The place where Luo Ding ultimately appeared should be here."
"Judging by the surroundings, he must have perished." Luo Ding sighed in relief.
Hu Sheng, who came along, formed a spell with his hands, chanting with his eyes closed, as an invisible exotic force spread from him to the surroundings.
After a while, Hu Sheng opened his eyes and shook his head slightly, "I can only sense a bit of cold aura, not much trace left."
Cold aura?
Yuan Zhen suddenly thought of a cloud of ghosts shrouding the sky.
"Could it be that Mr. Chen?"
Yuan Zhen's heart skipped a beat, and exchanged a glance with Hu Sheng, both thinking of Chen Mu.
