On the third day in the evening, the sun slants and dusk falls all around.
Chen Ping mustered his last bit of strength, landing on a low hill, preparing to take a short rest and gather some strength—even if only for a moment.
His mind was dazed, his vision blurred, and he was already on the verge of despair.
Just as despair filled the air, clear footsteps suddenly sounded nearby, steady and orderly, heading toward the hill.
Someone’s here!
A living, breathing cultivator!
Chen Ping’s soul trembled slightly, instantly regaining some clarity. A faint hope ignited in his heart, and he quickly looked up.
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