Li Yan's sense of smell would never be wrong.
Kong Hui's aura was extremely distinctive—
it was a sealed study room perpetually filled with moldy ancient books, mixed with a faint and indistinct scent of blood.
One whiff, and it was unforgettable.
The Hook Paper remained unresponsive, further affirming his judgment:
The target had merely "been here," and had already fled.
However, the chanting from deep within the cellar was clearly audible, spoken in an obscure southwestern dialect, carrying an ominously sinister tone.
"Capture him alive," Li Yan commanded with a low voice and a single glance.
The order fell silently, and the team moved like a precisely tuned mechanism.
Sha Lifei leapt onto the low wall like a monkey, the Divine Fire Gun already steadied on his shoulder;
Wang Daoxuan twisted a talisman between his fingers, silently reciting a spell;
Long Yan'er flicked her delicate fingers, and ghostly lights flew from her sleeve;
