The summer heat blazed, and scorching sunlight poured down, baking the dust on both sides of the official road until it was faintly hot.
The chirping of cicadas brought a trace of irritability.
After traveling continuously for five days, the party left Huangfeng Path and officially entered the territory of Qiulong Path.
Beneath the dense shade of trees beside the road stood a crude tea stall. Though its thatched roof was worn and shabby, it cast a broad patch of much-needed shade. Chen Qing thus ordered everyone to rest there for a while.
The tea stall was small, with only a few wooden tables and benches.
The stall owner was an old man with dark skin and a face full of wrinkles. Seeing so many guests with extraordinary bearing arrive at once, he hurriedly wiped down the tables and chairs, bringing out large coarse pottery bowls filled with cool tea brewed from broad-leaf tea.
The disciples found places in the shade to sit, gulping down cool tea or speaking in low voices.
He Shuang sat alone beneath a tree root some distance away, her eyes closed as she regulated her breathing, while Luo Qianjue and the others gathered around one table.
Chen Qing sat alone at a table farther inside. He lifted a coarse pottery bowl and took a sip of cool tea. He appeared to be resting with his eyes closed, but in truth, he was intently listening to a voice transmission in his ear.
The voice transmission came from an inconspicuous corner not far away. Sitting there was an old man in a gray robe with an ordinary aura—Elder Deng Ziheng, disguised as an ordinary accompanying steward.
"East Pole City..."
Deng Ziheng's voice was condensed as silk, clearly entering Chen Qing's ears. "This city lies at the easternmost