Tan Wenbin led Xu Ming and Chen Jing up the mountain.
Although everyone knew in their hearts that Little Yuan wouldn’t do anything without confidence, and Zhao Yi had given them reassurance over the phone, Tan Wenbin still didn’t dare to waste a single moment on the road.
Xu Ming and Chen Jing were even more eager than Tan.
They remembered Zhao Yi’s instructions: seize the opportunity and make a good showing.
Even so, the three of them hurried and still arrived late.
From the first platform to the hall there were many severed corpses hanging along the way, all in different shapes, none intact.
During the earlier fight the Yin spirits had possessed the stone statues.
Those stone bodies were big and rugged, their fists large and coarse.
What they’d beaten out in the battle wouldn’t be pretty.
Runsheng was carrying a headless lion on his shoulder and a large bamboo basket they’d found on the mountain in his hand.
He was rummaging through the corpse piles, tossing the animal carcasses into the basket.
Chen Jing called, “Runsheng-ge!”
Runsheng glanced up once and handed the basket of animal corpses to Chen Jing.
“Eat,” he said.
Chen Jing swallowed, momentarily forgetting to take it.
Runsheng: “You won’t eat it.”