The night grew deeper.
It was now the third watch of the night, and the stars in the sky were rather dim.
Yu Guoxing sat by the fire and snapped a dry branch in his hand before tossing it into the flames. The yellow flame greedily licked the dry wood, growing larger by the moment, casting shadows on Yu Guoxing's hooked nose and high cheekbones, giving him a somewhat sinister appearance.
With a couple of crackles, the dry branches transformed into charred embers in the fire.
Yu Guoxing licked his slightly cracked lips, his eyes reflecting the firelight.
Whenever he saw such a scene of destruction, he felt a sense of exhilaration and satisfaction in his heart. It was a sensation as liberating as breaking chains, akin to a blade cutting through a neck, followed by the thick, stinking, crimson blood gushing out.
His gaze involuntarily drifted to the edge of the tents.
