Under the pitch-black night sky, Yang Fan drove the carriage away from the inn.
He traveled forward all the way, not too far, found a secluded grove, and without disturbing the six people still asleep in the carriage, Yang Fan lay on the carriage and slept through the night.
The next morning, it was daylight, and the sun had just peeked over the mountain top.
Yang Fan woke up the six of them. They opened their eyes in confusion, with splitting headaches.
"Yang Fan, what's going on? Why are we here?" Duan Wushuang looked around. It was a strange forest, and he couldn't remember anything from last night.
Could it be that he got drunk? That's impossible.
As a very vigilant person, he immediately understood that there was something wrong with the inn.
Yang Fan told them what happened last night: "I don't know who they were, so we must be more careful in the future."
