Fang Zhixing pushed open the window.
Early in the morning, the outside was shrouded in fog.
He saw a group of shabbily dressed peasants walking on the quiet street.
They walked with their heads down, expressions devout, muttering words as they passed through the city.
"Swamp Dharma King..."
Fang Zhixing furrowed his brows and pulled out a map to check.
To the southwest of the town, there indeed was a vast swamp named "Pingwu."
Stretching over eight hundred miles, the terrain was very complicated, damp, and foul-smelling, like a hidden infinite hell.
Fang Zhixing's eyes flashed as he realized that if he continued on his straight path to He Ming Mountain, he would have to wade through the dangerous Pingwu Swamp.
Of course, with his strength at that time, where couldn't he go?
Fang Zhixing thought for a while, then called the inn's serving boy to inquire, "The Swamp Dharma King is the deity worshipped here, right?"