The others were the same.
Harried for so many days, they too were exhausted.
Finally, they could rest.
A few were arranged to stand guard, while Templer leaned against the trunk of a tree and began to close his eyes to replenish his spirit.
But he didn't truly fall asleep.
It was his professional habit.
Hours passed.
Judging by the pace, even if crawling, the pursuers should have reached here by now.
Yet no one appeared to hassle them.
This suggested that the people chasing them were very likely already dead.
Finally unable to resist sleep, Templer entered dreamland.
He needed to rest too much.
However, just as Templer was sound asleep, a hand suddenly stretched out from behind the tree trunk and covered his mouth.
Templer woke up with a start, trying to scream.
But he couldn't make a sound.
He could only hear the rushing sound of liquid.
That wasn't water.
It was blood!
Blood spraying from his throat.
