Time passed day by day.
The nights at Fox Mountain were as pitch-black as ever.
The wind outside the dormitory hall wailed as usual.
In the dark hall, Bai Mo sat on the bed, quickly flipping through the text on his tablet, reading the documents he had transcribed over the past few days.
"Hmm...not much information here.
"Is this supposed to be the Ancient Immortal's daily record?"
In the past few days, the excavation team at Fox Mountain had completed their dig at the Execution Grounds Swamp, moved to the other side of the swamp, and resumed excavating. That area seemed to be a residential zone, and the documents unearthed were not very valuable.
But Bai Mo was not careless; he still transcribed them, reading bit by bit, hoping to glean some useful fragments.
Black Gloves sat in his master's lap, using his head to hold up the tablet as a stand.
His eyes were fixed on the choir in the distance!
After a period of practice, the choir had transformed.
