Primordial Main World.
In a poor, dilapidated little village, atop a low rocky hill at Stone Temple, beneath a clear and windless sky, three crudely made incense sticks slowly burned. Green smoke gathered before the temple like a cloud. Feng Ying sat cross-legged before it, both hands holding a rust-covered straight saber as she quietly contemplated and cultivated.
They had stayed in the village for a long time already, every day passing amid the roar of spells and flashes of sabers and swords.
The surrounding wilderness had once been covered in green, only for a fire to leave it pitted and scarred again. The mountains and fields were strewn with blackened scars of war. Fortunately, frequent rain brought life back. The villagers risked gathering edible wild vegetables to barely fill their stomachs, trembling through their days for a time before finally having no choice but to venture out and clear land for farming. Before leaving, they followed custom and prayed for blessings at Divine Dragon Temple. Whether it was truly efficacious or merely good fortune, the farming process was not caught up in the flames of war.
Though Feng Ying and Yu were cultivators, they never acted as though they stood above others. Several times, they helped the village drive off wandering evil fiends and demonic beasts, and chased away bandits who came to rob them. Before long, they earned the villagers' respect.
Footsteps gradually drew nearer. After taking a long breath, Feng Ying opened her eyes.
A lively young boy ran up the winding path. His short hair looked like a magpie's nest, and clothes stripped from corpses had been altered into a jacket. His muscular arms were sunburned red, with only coarse cloth wrapped around his wrists as bracers. His oversized shorts had their pant legs torn off