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“When it’s not the season of mad sand, the Panlong Desert is quite busy, you know?”
“I heard a god once descended there,” Dong Rui mused, seeming to believe him. “Could it be that the Ferry-Crossing Holy Mother sent its offspring there to investigate?”
“Who knows?” He Lingchuan hedged, but he thought investigate was a very apt word. Those ghostspawn had been sneaking around everywhere, as if trying to pry some hidden secret loose. “Even Sun Fuping and Nian Songyu were tripping over themselves to rush into the Panlong Desert.”
As he said it, a memory surfaced.
The god that had possessed Nian Songyu had once berated the black dragon, accusing it of setting up a trap on purpose, baiting them into sending down an avatar. The god had then demanded an answer from the dragon, and its exact words had been: “You know what I want to ask. Since I’m about to die, can I have the answer?”
And the black dragon had answered with, “There is no answer.”
At the time, that whole exchange had gone straight over He Lingchuan’s head. There simply had not been enough context, so he had chosen not to dwell on it. Only now, after dealing with more and more god-related business, did he feel there was a lot buried in those few lines.
The Panlong Ruins must still hold some secret that even...
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