In the grasslands at the beginning of September, once it rained, the cold seeped straight to the bone—especially at night.
Jing Yuan stood with his back to the wind, letting the rain lash his body as he went to check on the soldiers.
Ahead, he saw a cluster of people huddled together. When he walked over, he discovered that a curtain of rain had somehow been held apart. Apart from Pan Yun, Miao Zhen, Miao He, Tao Yanbai, and Xue Shao were all seated facing outward. Behind the square they formed, the rain had been shut out. Inside sat or lay numerous wounded and sick soldiers.
Jing Yuan stared blankly.
Like him, Pan Yun was searching through the soldiers. Before long, she dragged over two men and tossed them inside the rain curtain, sparing them from the wind and rain.
Jing Yuan swept his gaze over Miao Zhen and the other three. Yellow talismans were clutched in both their hands, their expressions grave and their lips faintly pale. He did not ask the foolish question of why they could not let everyone shelter inside.
Clearly, this was the limit of their ability.
Jing Yuan turned and left. Like Pan Yun, he selected the soldiers in the worst condition and brought them into the rain curtain. The soldiers within kept shifting their bodies to make room for more people—more, and more...
The yellow talismans and the unceasing flow of vital energy could block the rain falling from the sky, but they could not stop water from seeping up from the ground.
Thus, the ground beneath them gradually became soaked through, and everyone squeezed together as tightly as they could for warmth.
Even so, it was far better than sitting outside in the open.
The soldiers slowly drew closer, surrounding Miao Zhen