When the old man turned around, Qiao Mu's keen eyes spotted a red rope protruding from his collar.
A faint frown creased Qiao Mu's brow as she assessed the elderly man. She had caught sight of something unusual, but chose to hold her silence.
The group of them followed the elderly man to the outskirts of the village, where a dilapidated thatched hut stood, its roof collapsed. A wordless exchange of glances passed between them.
The young monk, his curiosity piqued, leaned against Mo Lian's long, straight legs. Half of his small frame remained hidden behind Mo Lian, with only half of his petite head peering out, revealing a pair of large, round, inquisitive eyes as he observed the elderly man with the goatee.
The old man led them behind the ruined house and began tapping the ground. After a moment, he abruptly moved one of the tiles.
