Night fell.
The night wind wailed through the darkness, and threads of cold air drifted everywhere.
As night crows cried from the branches, the occasional drip of a dewdrop could be heard, unable to bear its own weight.
The broad road, crowded with trees, was deserted now, yet far from still. Foxes and rabbits darted through the undergrowth, while insects and snakes rustled and slithered without pause.
"Thud, thud, thud..."
Suddenly, faint footsteps sounded in the distance.
Sensing human presence, the red fox fled, the gray rabbit bolted, and the insects and snakes hurried back into their holes. In an instant, the road lay empty, every strange sound dying away. Only a stone stele remained, standing quietly with the three characters "Yan Hui Valley" carved into it.
Starlight and moonlight, pale as frost, soon illuminated a covered sedan chair on the road.
The sedan chair was borne by four men dressed as servants. All four were vigorous and robust, with bulging temples. Their eyes shone like torches as they glanced around. On closer inspection, their shoulders were far broader than an ordinary person's, their tiger-mouth calluses thick, and their cheeks and the sides of their necks covered in scars.
The four men moved in perfect unison, starting and stopping together. The sedan chair swept swiftly forward without the slightest tremor, and on the empty road, only one person's footsteps could be heard.
Walking close beside the sedan chair was a white-faced, clean-shaven old man with a large belly. He had long, fine brows, narrow eyes, a high nose, and thin lips. He wore a green robe patterned with floral medallions, worn but still presentable, and carried a snowy-white horsetail whisk in the crook of his arm. He looked heavy and sluggish, yet his steps were remarkably light, landing soundlessly without