Jiang Ying and Mu Yin stepped through the knee-high mugwort, following the cracked dirt path to scout the area ahead.
Not far away, in the thicket of trees, came an unusual sound. It was not the clatter of hooves nor the rumble of carriage wheels; it sounded more like heavy, dragging footsteps accompanied by the squelching of viscous fluid.
An indescribable stench drifted over, a blend of heavy blood and the sweet, rotting reek of pus. Jiang Ying instinctively covered her nose and mouth.
Chapter 187