Although they received the message from the Green Bird, the Atonement Hunting Team's operation did not go smoothly.
When the five young wizards sequentially left the camp and crossed the barrier, a dead raven hung on the camp gate happened to fall right into the center of their formation, landing at Li Meng's feet.
This time, the little witch did not scream. Instead, she quickly squatted down, picked up the dead raven by its claws, and flaunted it in front of Zheng Qing.
"What did I say?"
She showed no trace of fear on her face, looking rather smug: "An ill omen! A very bad omen! A black dog struts the street, a dead raven hits the ground, an owl snickers, ancestral tablets topple… What signs could possibly be worse than these?"
Zheng Qing stared at the rotting, emaciated dead raven, feeling a shadow cast over his heart. In fact, the atmosphere in the entire hunting team had already started to sour even without the little witch's commentary.
"Li Meng, throw it away!"
