WHOOSH... HOWL... The sound of the mountain wind howling.
RUSTLE... SWISH... SWOOSH... The sound of the wind shaking branches and twigs.
CAW... SCREECH... HOWL... The strange cries of owls and other nocturnal creatures.
These sounds mingled, and at any moment, one might swell from a whisper to a roar, only to fade away again.
That's why anyone who could spend a night in the mountains had to be mentally tough. Otherwise, the sounds alone would be too much for an ordinary person to bear.
Holding a torch, Zhao Jun had been trekking through the night for over three hours. He didn't reach No. 78 Logging Camp until a little after ten.
By this time, the camp's logging teams had already left the mountain for the day. But Yang Hong, the Leader, was still there, as were the cook, Hu Dahai, and his son.
The moment Zhao Jun arrived, the dogs at the camp started barking.
