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The gentle slope, covered in wild grass, stretched under the vast heavens, an endless expanse of withered yellow. Two barren trees at the top of the slope, usually the only feature in this open landscape, had company today as a small group stopped to rest.
A young girl skillfully gathered dry branches and wild grass, stacking them in the best way to catch fire. She lowered her head, whispered a quiet chant, and pointed a finger.
“Whoosh...” A small fire ignited before her.
She’d done this countless times in recent years, so much so that it had become second nature, something she barely thought about.
Once she finished, the girl yawned and stretched as if she were merely relaxing, with no desire for praise or further action. Casually, she sat down next to the Daoist, turned her head to gaze at whatever piqued her interest, lost in her own thoughts.
The wind blew the flames in a single direction.
The black horse was tied to a barren tree in the distance, while the jujube-red horse stood alone nearby, both grazing quietly with their heads lowered. The Daoist, meanwhile, turned his gaze to the road below.
A neglected official road stretched beneath them, overgrown with weeds. Who knew how long it had been since anyone had traveled this path?
The swordsman’s voice came from beside him. “There’s not a single soul.”
“Indeed.”
They had been traveling for...
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