The tremor lasted no more than two or three minutes, a light dusting of gray settling from the bricks. The group steadied themselves, and as if nothing had happened at all, Zhang Qiling said, "It wasn't an earthquake. Let's move." With a glance at Aning's serene profile, he broke from a fast walk into a light jog.
Black Glasses hitched Aning slightly higher in his arms and hurried to keep pace with Zhang Qiling.
They hadn't rested since coming down, and they hadn't even had time for dinner; Fatty's stomach was already staging a full-scale protest. Yet seeing the others practically marching at a forced-march pace, he gritted his teeth and broke into a trot to catch up. What could he do? Lord Pang was nothing if not a loyal friend.
Chapter 842