The night was deep and heavy. Ling Xiao walked slowly along the edge of the camp, his spiritual sense spreading out like water. The nights of Luoxia Mountain were far from peaceful; the low growls of fierce beasts echoed faintly in the distance, and countless pairs of eyes seemed to peer through the swaying shadows of the trees.
"Fellow Daoist Ling, wandering out here alone in the middle of the night—could it be that you are planning to desert?"
Zhào Míngxuān's chilling voice slid into his ears like a venomous snake. Ling Xiao turned to see the man standing ten feet away, his face looking exceptionally cold under the moonlight. The cloud patterns embroidered on his cyan Daoist robe gleamed faintly in the dark, and his right hand hung casually at his side, though he had already formed a sword incantation.
Chapter 323