The night wind is like a hand, the pine needles like strings, playing a deep melody like the rolling waves, singing endlessly.
In the blink of an eye, half an hour had passed.
When Nie Chong returned to the cliff, with the night dew soaking his clothes entirely, he noticed that the stars above had shifted, and the wind had gradually died down.
However, when he returned to his original spot, he couldn't help but be startled.
Because the grassland, which was just overgrown with weeds, was now flattened. It was as if something had rolled over it, and the night dew that once rested on the grass blades was gone. The ground appeared pitch black, making it almost indistinguishable from the ground or the people hiding here.
It wasn't until he heard the heavy breathing of two people that he could discern the direction and immediately leaned forward.
"Your Highness, Mr. Shen—"
As he approached, Nie Chong was taken aback once more.
