Thirty-four led everyone on their journey, heading south.
At this time, the sky was about to break dawn, as if a drunken immortal had casually stirred up the broken clouds of the day, and a little golden-red light leaked out from between the clouds, the color of a lacquer pillar with peeling red face.
Sanshisi led the way, and Alex followed behind him, looking back frequently, and was very concerned about the young man with teardrop mole holding the fan.
The young man noticed his gaze and gave him a faint smile in the dim morning light.
Alex thought about it and smiled back at him. It was a rather clumsy smile, but it was genuine enough.
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