'The scent is getting clearer. I must be close.'
The bloody scent of the Feeding Birds of Prey gradually filled the air. At the same time, this pungent odor continuously assaulted Mo Ling's body.
But Mo Ling was no longer the delicate newborn he once was. He was tough now, his skin thick. The bloody scent couldn't even break through the layer of scent molecules on his body's surface, and could only linger outside.
'The smell of burning, a fruity aroma, and the scent of dried blood on feathers... This must be the place.'
Mo Ling stopped at the edge of a waterfall. The mist from the falls made the surrounding air currents unusually active, and scent molecules constantly brushed past his body.
The sweltering summer heat and the ice-cold water created a stark contrast. Some familiar scent molecules rode the rising vapor into the sky, where they were precisely captured by Mo Ling.
