"Without some wine, it’s unbearable..."
"This bird place in the Great Wilderness, really isn’t fit for humans."
"Fortunately, this beast has become much more docile and isn’t causing trouble anymore. Otherwise, we’d still be suffering."
"Stop calling it a beast. If it truly becomes tamed, it’s a ’King Beast,’ not something we can easily offend."
"If you keep calling it a beast, and Young Master hears, he won’t spare you lightly."
"Indeed..."
"Hasn’t the Young Master tamed it yet?"
"I estimate it will be soon, its ferocity has been mostly ground down. It’s been much more gentle these past few days."
"What a pity, if we’d caught up a little earlier, maybe we could have earned more rewards."
"Let’s drink..."
"Drink."
After that, the group didn’t say much more, only discussing some daily cultivation matters, personnel changes in the Great Wilderness Sect, and complaining about the harsh environment of the Great Wilderness, expressing a desire not to linger.
Mo Hua didn’t listen further, glanced up at the Big Tiger to confirm it was fine, then turned back towards the Taoist Soldiers’ camp.
However, all along the way, Mo Hua was full of doubts:
The Big Tiger is fine... then what caused my earlier palpitations?
Also, Mo Hua suddenly realized he’d been overlooking something:
Why was Young Master Tuoba so insistent on taming the Big Tiger?
Although the Big Tiger is indeed majestic, its mix of black and white fur, fluffy, holy yet domineering, clearly an extraordinary creature, anyone would like it at a glance.
But isn’t Young Master Tuoba a bit too obsessed?
Mo Hua frowned in confusion, all the way back to the camp, lying on the bed, listening to the wailing desert winds, still puzzled and unable to sleep.
After a while, Yang Jiyong came to patrol the camp.
His patrol focus was on Mo Hua.
The other Taoist Soldiers didn’t concern him much; he was worried Mo Hua might run away or meet with some mishap.
After all, a Formation Master like Mo Hua is a rare talent.
If anything happened, he’d regret it deeply.
Yang Jiyong entered the tent, his first sight directed at Mo Hua.
One look wasn’t enough; he moved closer to see if Mo Hua was asleep, if he was still breathing.
But as he approached, he saw Mo Hua’s blinking eyes in the dark.
The two locked gazes.
Yang Jiyong felt a bit embarrassed and chuckled awkwardly, "Fengbo Ridge is windy here, with lots of sand and gravel, cold at night. Are you getting used to it?"
"It’s manageable." Mo Hua nodded.
"Good to get used to it." Yang Jiyong smiled, "Get some rest early."
He didn’t want to disturb Mo Hua further, turned to leave.
But just as he turned, Mo Hua’s expression changed, grabbing Yang Jiyong suddenly.
Yang Jiyong was puzzled, "Wha... what is it?"
Mo Hua stared at Yang Jiyong’s forehead.
The night was too dark; he couldn’t distinguish it at first, but when Yang Jiyong turned under the lamp’s light, his face had no light, still shadowy and dark at the forehead, shrouded with... a death omen.
Yang Jiyong... could die?
Mo Hua felt a sudden clutch at his heart.
"Brother Yang, what have you been doing just now?" Mo Hua quickly asked.
Yang Jiyong was a bit dazed, "Patrolling the night..."
"During the day?"
"During the day, nothing much, just marching together, setting up camp..."
"Besides that?" Mo Hua asked, "Did you do anything unusual or encounter anyone or anything different from usual? You must be honest, no hiding!"
Yang Jiyong couldn’t quite understand, but seeing Mo Hua’s serious expression, he thought carefully and eventually shook his head:
"Same as usual."
Mo Hua frowned.
When he first saw the death omen on Yang Jiyong’s forehead, he thought he might have encountered something ’unclean’ in Fengbo Ridge.
But now it seemed not to be the case.
If he didn’t do anything unusual, it meant this ’death omen’ was indiscriminate.