The sky was dark, the ash-gray clouds enveloping the mountain peaks, making it almost impossible to distinguish between the sky and the ground.
The air was filled with a pungent smell, and the icy cold wind seemed to seep into the bones of anyone walking.
The branches were rustling in the wind, the mournful sound striking the hearts of everyone.
They had been too busy to watch the clouds, yet everyone could sense their approach.
Driven by a sense of urgency, they moved quickly.
Even Hu Zi and his group wouldn't dawdle, never considering running away.
To run now meant certain death.
Li Dahu felt quite surprised when he saw a large crowd ahead.
Especially seeing Song Moting and Jiang Xiaoxiao, but not Zhang Baocheng, his expression was of mixed surprise and complex sorrow.
At the same time, Jiang Xiaoxiao was tightly embraced by a figure that rushed towards her.
"Dead girl, you scared your sister to death."
