"Zhao Wuhuan's call for help?"
Qin An's sword-like eyebrows slightly furrowed as he gently stroked the bronze waist token hanging at his side.
He hadn't expected that it would be a secret plea for aid from Zhao Wuhuan.
Furthermore, judging by the context, he seemed to be in dire straits.
The coordinates left on the token were quite coincidental, pointing directly to the mist-shrouded solitary peak before him.
Though only the outline of the mountain was visible, one could sense a faint blood-colored Evil Qi drifting as smoke on the summit.
"Looks like there's no avoiding it," Qin An lightly tapped the knife hilt with his knuckles.
Zhao Wuhuan had once mentored Qin An.
Back then, without Zhao Wuhuan going easy on him, Qin An would not have safely overcome the Yang Elixir crisis.
Qin An had his own principles in handling matters, and now that Zhao Wuhuan was in peril, he naturally had to lend a hand.
