Rustle, rustle, rustle...
By the shores of the Great Ming Lake, a fine misty rain still lingered.
After enjoying the splendid banquet prepared by Duke Bingling, Wang Yuan and Huang Wu reaffirmed the details of their subsequent plan before taking their leave.
Sheltering under an umbrella that exuded the allure of worldly desires, they walked with ease over the hundred-zhang corridor bridge erected along the lakeshore.
The famous scenery of the lake and mountains of the entire Red County Shenzhou failed to catch their eyes.
At this moment, both of them were pondering the warning that Duke Bingling had emphasized several times.
"Be wary of the black hand hidden in the crevices of history!"
The avatars of Duke Bingling, akin to the tentacles of an octopus, were deeply entwined with all the trades of the Human Dao, and he had lived long enough.
