Just like back then, Lu Bai died once, but miraculously, he came back.
That stab from her, so deep, so ruthless, yet he didn't die.
His life was tough; he wouldn't die so obscurely.
As night fell, Lu Xiaojiu discovered a handprint on a rock. This handprint was still fresh. Her eyes lit up, but in the vast desert, with its four directions, surrounded by endless yellow sand, which way should she go?
She recalled a conversation with Lu Bai in the jungle years ago. Holding a compass, going south, Lu Bai got lost. He habitually went south, everyone who knew and trusted him understood.
Mu Liang, Chu Lin, and others would definitely search south, too.
The only prayer was that the severely injured Lu Bai still knew the direction.
Lu Xiaojiu could only take a gamble.
