...
Two days later.
Shu region, Moxi Town.
Like sifted through a sieve, the fine rain endlessly covers the land, painting the mountains, earth, and forests with a deep gray as if transforming into an ink landscape painting.
On a main road near Hailuo Gully, three fast horses gallop through the rain curtain, their hooves splashing mud all around, quickly leaving behind shallow pits as if rapidly unfurling the ink lines of a scroll.
Not far from the road, a group of mysterious figures wearing rain cloaks and green bamboo hats stand waiting, their presence restrained, faces cold as they gaze at the end of the distant road.
Only ten or so meters away, visibility is blurred, the rain curtain blocking all sight in a vast whiteness.
But none of these five people are ordinary; even by sensing the slight vibrations of the ground with their feet, they know the target is rapidly approaching.
