The wind at the end of the tunnel suddenly changed direction, and when the bitter fragrance of pine needles filled his nose, the hairs on the back of Pi Yanlin's neck stood on end.
He steadied himself against the cliff face and looked out, guided by the cold light seeping from Gu Qinghuan's scabbard. The so-called "end of the tunnel" was merely a protruding ridge of stone; half a foot further was the sheer drop of an open cliff. In the pitch-black deep valley below, the sound of the pines roared like thunder trapped in an earthen jar.
"Pi Yanlin!" Qinglin's voice exploded from behind, shaking loose a shower of pebbles from the stone ridge.
Chapter 69