Perilous Encounter in the Hinterlands, Mysterious Tribe Blocks the Way

The wind stopped.

The horses' hooves sank into the edge of the dried riverbed, even their breath seeming to freeze. The figures atop the rock wall did not move, nor did they lower their outstretched palms. Like a silent boundary marker, they stood across the road ahead.

Chen Wuya slowly released his grip on the waterskin, his knuckles relaxing inch by inch. He did not look at Bai Zhi. He merely gave the horse's neck a gentle pat, and the mount quietly backed away half a step, lowering its head to gnaw at the withered yellow grass roots in the sand. Chen Wuya himself slowly crouched down, pressing his palm to the ground as if sensing something.

A moment later, he lifted his head and took out the bone token bestowed by the new king. Raising it above his head, he slowly turned it so that the patterns on both sides could be seen clearly. Then, in a low, ancient foreign tongue, he said, "The wolf howls beneath twin moons; the blood pact remains unbroken."

His voice was not loud, yet it traveled some distance along the canyon walls.

The guards remained silent, but one of them slightly tilted his head, his gaze sweeping toward the depths of the shadows. Three breaths later, an old man emerged from behind a layer of rock weathered by wind and sand until it resembled cracked earth.

He wore a gray-brown cloak of beast hide, his body stooped, yet his feet made not a sound upon the broken stones. The wrinkles on his face were ravines carved by the wind's blade over countless years. Only his eyes remained clear, like stars at the bottom of a cold pool. As he approached, the air seemed to grow heavier, and even the warhorses flicked their tails