But now, the place was empty, leaving only a pile of campfire ashes thoroughly extinguished by the rain and the clear impressions left by two tents.
"They've already left!" Xiaowang whispered nervously, gripping the steel gun tighter.
"Don't panic." Yang Zhen's voice was as steady as a mountain, "They can't be far. They wouldn't risk traveling in thick fog and darkness before dawn. They've left here less than an hour ago."
He turned to Lin Yu'an, eyes full of trust: "Teacher Lin, it's up to you now. We need to confirm their final destination."
"Understood."
Once Yang Zhen gave the order, the group swiftly slid down to the abandoned camp below.
Half an hour later, they arrived at the riverbank. The air still carried the mixed smell of campfire and moisture.
Lin Yu'an ignored the tent marks and walked straight to the pile of campfire ashes, starting to interpret the language left by the camp.
