There is absolutely no danger to the home of the famous doctor teacher, but beyond the exit of this tunnel, is it a desert with no traces? Or is it a hall full of people? When you just emerge from the exit, will a knife tear down and slash at your neck, leaving your head with blood splattered three feet in a different place, and you don't even have a glimpse of the enemy's face? Canghai couldn't help but clench the dagger in his hand.

Standing on the fifth step, he stretched out his right arm and lightly supported the exit slate with his dagger, which was loosened but not raised, and then strengthened, and the slate rose to reveal a gap, and a ray of light poured from outside the exit filled the eyes of the sea with amber wine.

A pair of snow-white and delicate lotus feet with slender toes, neatly trimmed and beautiful foot nails dyed with bright red fingers. The feet, which were more beautiful than the faces of some women, were stepping on the pale green straw mats, and a piece of warbler yellow skirt fluttering on the ankles brushed shoulders from a low rectangular table on the floor, and floated out of the doorway. Only the white porcelain lotus bowl on the table reflects the brocade green seat.

When the corners of the warbler's yellow skirt were placed on the edge of the straw mat as large as the floor, the low table on the mat suddenly jumped. When the corners of the skirt disappeared, the entire straw mat under the low table lifted a crack from the edge of the wall. Collapsed again. After waiting for a while, the straw mat swelled again, and a hand grew from the edge.

A fair, slender hand, with a silver ring set with royal blue crystals on its four fingers. The hand only grew out for a moment, then retracted. After a while, it slowly stretched out like a turtle's head. Next, there are the wrists, elbows, and upper arms.

Canghai struggled out half of his body from under the entire straw mat as large as the floor, supporting the ground with one hand, supporting the wall with the other, his left cheek was tightly pressed against the wall, his lips were forced to pout high, and the exit stone slab pressed heavily on his waist, and the place that was smashed by the purple window was painful. But he endured it and did not make a sound.

He had exhausted all the internal forces he could muster and was sure that there was no sound within a few feet of the neighborhood. He breathed a sigh of relief, but his face was still painful. Turning his head with difficulty, he changed his right cheek to the wall, and his lips were still squeezed into an oxygen-deficient fish, but he could rest the sore left side of his face.

Fortunately, he was the one who arched out of the secret passage in such an extremely difficult position, otherwise with this narrowness, no one with a slightly stiff waist would be able to bend his waist at such an angle, and how could he climb out?

Canghai really wanted to look back, but his shoulders, which were almost glued to the wall, couldn't support any more twisting of his head and neck. So he had to try to pull his hips out of the stone slab and find a way to flip his body horizontally, but he did not dare to arch it hard, because when his neck could turn, he saw that there was a long rectangular low table pressed on top of the straw mat on his body, and in the corner of the table was a hanging white porcelain lotus tea bowl, which was constantly tilting and trembling with his every effort.

Occasionally, with a little more force, the lid of the white porcelain bowl will be like a midsummer rain that will keep hitting the edge of the bowl, sending out a long cry of dead autumn insects without panting.

At this time, Canghai could only endure the pain in his lower back, his arms were sore, his right cheek was numb, his face was painful, he held his breath, waited for the autumn insect to die completely, and then through hard work, another autumn insect was born.

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