The moldy smell inside the tunnel grew heavier, and Ye Fan's boot slipped on the moss, but Lin Zhaoyue caught him in time. He could feel the warmth of her palm through her coarse cloth glove—ever since his fall in his past life, this was the second time someone had supported him so steadily.
"We're here." The tip of Lin Zhaoyue's sword trembled slightly. Pale yellow light leaked through a gap in the stone wall ahead, mingled with the sound of human voices. Ye Fan held his breath, and the spiritual Qi within his Inner World spread like a spiderweb, instantly outlining the space ahead: a stone hall roughly twenty zhang square, with a long ebony table in the center and twelve bronze lamp trees burning with gloomy blue flames, casting human shadows against the damp stone walls like a pack of baring ghosts.
The two pressed against the stone wall and crept behind a boulder as tall as a man. The sound leaking through the stone seam grew clearer—a gray-robed elder at the head was tapping the table with his fingernail, every strike sounding like a hammer to Ye Fan's nerves: "The Primordial Sword array of the Cangwu Sword Sect, the Nine-Revolution Golden Body Art of the Ye Family, these trump-card techniques must be pinned down on the day of the operation."
Chapter 377