That night, at the campsite on the edge of Dayao Mountain, there were people kneeling all over the ground.
Knowing the darkness before dawn was approaching, a faint red light swept from the southwest sky and entered Gu Changsheng's forehead. After flickering a few times, the red light eventually dimmed. The blood seeping from his forehead stopped, and Zhou Mu barely caught the woman as she fell toward the ground.
He sighed, carried her back to the tent, and Zhou Mu walked out with a stern face, looking towards Wuchang Yue and frowning as he asked, "What exactly is going on?"
The affairs of Witch Gu were extremely mystical, and people from the Central Plains were terrified by the mere mention of it, knowing very little.
"How would I know?" Wuchang Yue looked up at Zhou Mu and spoke coldly.
