Early the next morning.
Inside an abandoned village.
The sky was overcast, and a steady drizzle continued to fall.
A cool wind blew, piercing to the bone.
The people scattered throughout the village's crude houses gradually woke from their sleep.
After a day of fleeing in disarray, followed by this damp, chilling weather,
those with weak constitutions grew even weaker, and some fell ill outright.
The convoy had no choice but to postpone its departure for a day and rest here briefly.
Inside a relatively intact earthen house.
A Red Clay Stove stood by the door, scarlet charcoal burning within and radiating heat in every direction.
On top of the stove, the black pottery casserole bubbled away. White steam spurted from beneath the lid, occasionally lifting it.
Little Daoist Cheng Ming sat beside the stove, his eyes still bleary with sleep, but his nose kept twitching toward the casserole.
No matter how the short, plump Daoist He coaxed him, he refused to move.
"Young Master Chen, I'm sorry." Daoist He looked awkwardly at Chen Mu.
Because of what had happened when they first met, he was still somewhat afraid of Chen Mu.
Back then, Cheng Yi had sworn that this Young Master was possessed by a Malevolent Spirit.
Although it had later been proven a misunderstanding, Daoist He still harbored some apprehension.
"It's fine. Let him eat with us."
One sheep or two, it was all the same to herd. Chen Mu glanced at Jie Jia, who sat calmly beside Cheng Ming.
He had already grown used to this old-and-young pair of foodies.
After the meal, Chen Mu pulled two gray cloth bags the size of fists from the bundle on his back.
They contained finger-sized dried fruit and jerky. He tossed one bag each to Jie Jia