What surprised Li Qingmu was that he was not in a room inside some residence, but in a stretch of barren mountains and wilderness. Many torches were lit around him, along with several large bonfires, flooding the surroundings with light.
This place looked like a graveyard, with many mounds of earth all around, overgrown with wild grass.
Among them, there was a man in strange clothes, hair hanging loose, sitting in meditation before a ritual altar. Li Qingmu quietly lifted his head and looked around; like him, there were another forty to fifty people who had been captured.
He didn't know how many of these people were from Yulong Pavilion. Li Qingmu secretly blew a whistle that sounded like a bird's call, and soon after, he heard a dozen responses coming from all directions.
Good, more than a dozen men had made it in; now he had a solid footing in his heart.
