Over the undulating mountains, the decaying smell of rotting fish and shrimp wafted through the air.
Between the crevices of the stone outcrops atop the mountain, which should have been dry, one could vaguely discern the mud left behind after being submerged by seawater.
In the sky, vultures circled and swooped down from time to time.
A group of cultivators, with talismans affixed to their bodies and covered in dust, were leaping and running swiftly between the mountains.
"Why don't we just fly over?"
Wang Yi'an followed at the back of the team, in front of him, a bearded old man with a pockmarked face.
Watching the cultivators squeezing through the gaps between the mountain peaks, Wang Yi'an couldn't help but ask in confusion.
"Fly over? Looking for death!"
Before the pockmarked-faced bearded old man could respond, a thin man with a sullen face walking in front couldn't help but mutter in a low voice.
Wang Yi'an's expression couldn't help but turn cold.