The three indistinct characters dispersed in the tomb chamber; the amorous scent of sweet basil was incredibly improper on the ice-cold yellow loess and stones; Li Shiyi picked the smoking pipe up, and considered it carefully, and then felt the ground faintly vibrate, the sound of uneven horse hoof-like footsteps swiftly hurrying along, coming from a distance and reaching close with the force of a hot knife through butter. Tu Laoyao’s body trembled violently, and the fat on either side shook as if hammered over and over by Lei Gong; [1] the group gazed at him, bewildered, and saw that he’d fished the hun spirit command strip out from his pocket with some difficulty, pinched between numb fingers, and he said, stammeringly, “F…fuck, it’s shaking!” Li Shiyi quietly said that wasn’t good, and held the smoking pipe horizontally across her chest, just having fallen into a defensive stance when she heard a burst of spirit breeze, coldly and gradually pressing against the back of her head. Sh