Ever since the witch hunt, White Witches had been incognito. Even their trusted aides had a hard time getting their real addresses.
They had developed their own language that could hide secret information behind ordinary words.
On the business card in Shen Chun's hand, the real address was beside the tallest camphor tree halfway up the mountain.
Before he saw the tree, Song Han was already out of breath.
"How far is it?" He looked at Shen Chun eagerly, in hopes that she could fly halfway up the mountain with a talisman or a sword.
But Shen Chun could tell what he was thinking at a glance.
"No, this is the deep mountains, so there are very few people here, and the spiritual energy is sparse. I don't want to waste spiritual energy, so you should climb slowly." Besides, Fu Shi hadn't come over yet. If anything happened to him, he wouldn't even be able to save himself.