Green hills, bright moon, gentle breeze, the fragrance of flowers, and from time to time, the chirping of insects by their ears.
A bonfire had been lit on a narrow path almost buried beneath wild grass, crackling now and then.
The blazing fire illuminated the otherwise dim surroundings. Above it stood a makeshift wooden rack, upon which a rabbit sizzled, grease spattering everywhere. Waves of rich meat fragrance wafted over, enough to make mouths water.
Gathered around the fire were Meng Zhao, Niu Dali, Yuan Bin, and Yuan Bin's steward and servants.
They carried bundles large and small, all filled with clothes and valuables. Having left Taoyun Residence, none of them knew when they might return. They had brought everything they could carry, while whatever could not be taken had been hidden away in secret places.
Meng Zhao sat by the fire for warmth, his hands extended close to the scorching flames. His handsome face was tranquil, yet amid the silent, desolate night, he seemed touched by a lonely, far-reaching solitude.
At this point, a day had already passed since the earth-shaking battle against the Demonic Buddha Sarira wielded by the two Dharma Kings of the Pudu Cult. The reason they had chosen these narrow, abandoned paths was also to evade the Pudu Cult's people.
Over there, Yuan Bin sat on the grass as well, his hands extended over the edge of the flames just like Meng Zhao's. His thoughts drifted endlessly, and no one knew what he was thinking. He looked rather dazed, no different from when he used to hole up at Taoyun Residence.
Niu Dali, meanwhile, was entirely unlike his usual carefree, reckless, crude self. He appeared exceedingly steady, though he would occasionally turn to look at Meng Zhao, his gaze filled with something strange and awestruck.