Jiang Xuelan reached out and gently patted her back, her voice gentle yet firm: “It’s alright, we’ll take you home.”

Xuanzhenzi clicked his tongue and said to Chen Ping in a low voice, “Mr. Chen, this girl is really lucky to be alive. The owners of those skeletons weren’t as fortunate as her.”

Chen Ping nodded, but his gaze never left the churning gray mist around them: “She was indeed lucky, but that also means that thing isn’t nearby right now. We need to leave quickly before it returns.”

He helped Youlan up; the girl’s legs were still weak, and she could barely stand.

Jiang Xuelan shielded her behind her, holding her wrist with one hand while the fingertips of her other hand never relaxed their gathering of icy power.

“Stay close to me.”

Chen Ping walked at the front, his Dragon-Slaying Sword half-drawn, its purple light like a dim lamp in the gray mist. “Don’t turn back, don’t stop. If you hear any sounds, ignore them.”