As it happened, Yang Jian and Weining journeyed across mountains and rivers all the way, while elsewhere Yang Chan made the arduous trek alone, bearing the corpse of Nezha.
As for their inner feelings, it was like drinking water—only the drinker knows whether it is cold or warm.
Anxious at heart, yet blessed with a smooth journey and a brisk pace, Yang Jian finally reached Kunlun Mountain in the depths of late autumn.
Chapter 133