Zhang Guoqing said nothing, keeping a close eye on the three generations of the Wang Family. Without a reasonable plan, he would leave. Even if there was Immortal Grass or Immortal Medicine inside, he would walk away without hesitation.
It seemed Mr. Wang had long prepared, having his eldest grandson take out a bucket of red paint from the bamboo basket, brushing it along the way. His eldest son cleared the path, while he led Zhang Guoqing slowly behind.
Zhang Guoqing touched his nose, wanting to mention the paint smell probably scared even the animals away, let alone the appearance of any wild goats. After some thought, he ultimately remained silent, focusing on memorizing the signs and staying alert to the surroundings.
For a long time, no one passed by. Stepping on the fallen leaves felt like walking on a long-haired carpet, soft and unsettling.
