"Yes!" a group of eight responded and continued to help the man on his way; or rather, they were actually running for their lives!
...
"Stop!" The person in the lead raised his hand signaling everyone to halt, his gaze probing the surroundings.
"Boss, there are no blood traces." Crouching down, under the moonlight, he scrutinized the wild grass and fallen leaves before them as one of them spoke.
"Hmph!" The man referred to as the boss snorted coldly, his sharp eyes scanning the area before saying coolly, "They can't run away." Even though they couldn't see any blood traces, the Spiritual Hounds they had brought with them could smell it. Even if the air was filled with too many other scents, for the Spiritual Hounds that often fed on humans, it hardly made a difference—for they were all too familiar and fond of the scent of blood!
"Release our little darlings, let them guide us at the front." Gesturing with his hand, the man coldly commanded, bloodlust in his eyes.