The sun had set and the cold wind hadn't stopped.
Huang Donglai stood next to the withered tree where he had met Zhao Ahchun, looking around, but could find no trace of the other.
He found it strange: Where could a person with a broken leg have gone? Could a wild beast have dragged him away?
With this thought, he bent down and examined the ground closely, and indeed… there was a disorderly drag mark extending slowly into the distance.
Huang Donglai hesitated for a moment before following the trail in a direction he had never been before.
This journey took another incense stick's time.
In delayed realization, a cold moon had quietly crept above the clouds.
The moonlight, like water, spread through the misty mountains, and also illuminated the potholed marshland and the vaguely outlined barren forest.
The scenery could be described as having a unique flavor, but Huang Donglai, anxious and impatient, was not in the mood to appreciate it.
