Gasping.
Chen Ji weaved through the flames and ashes, tearing a piece of cloth from his hem to cover his mouth and nose, but the heavy breathing still carried the spicy sting of smoke and fire.
Did the Night Patrol rush up the mountain to rescue the Yulin Army? Did the Yulin Army break out of the encirclement?
Chen Ji didn't know; he had already done his best.
In the darkness, a light suddenly appeared behind him.
Jiang Liuxian drew a long knife, the snow-bright blade reflecting the mountain fire and the bright moon in the sky. A huge Sword Gang, ten yards apart, roared like a mountain and sea.
The blade of the Sword Gang was several feet wide, and though Chen Ji dodged sideways, he was still grazed by the edge of the Sword Gang. Half of his sleeve, as if made of paper, was torn apart where the Sword Gang passed.
Chen Ji's right arm felt as if it had been plowed by a steel brush, oozing fine blood.
An excruciating pain.
