In the desolate wilderness, the yellow-faced old monk trudged through knee-high wild grass.
The free-spirited wind wandered between heaven and earth, yet he seemed to carry a heavy shackle, making each step far from easy.
He no longer soared high into the sky.
These past few days, he had gone back and forth between Zhongshan Country and Jade Capital Mountain three times, but the traces of Zhao Xuenyang and Jiang Wang seemed to have vanished completely.
He could see through illusions but could not produce something from nothing.
He was certain that Zhao Xuenyang had hidden himself somewhere with his slippery disciple.
Now, he abandoned the broad method of tracking traces and turned to searching inch by inch. He didn't believe that, after painstakingly combing through every possible hiding spot, Zhao Xuenyang could still escape his sight.
