The Yellow Springs split the road between life and death; once across the Bridge of Helplessness, there was no turning back.
Rumble!
A bolt of lightning tore across the sky, its dazzling brilliance illuminating the entire desert.
The old horse beneath Mu Qingfeng, who had been muttering away like a madman, reared in fright and instantly flung him from its back.
"Ah..."
The weather-beaten old man tumbled down the sandy slope, yellow grit filling his nose and mouth, then thudded into the edge of a sand pit.
"Damn you, Heaven!"
The old man spat out a mouthful of sand and rubbed his eyes, stung by the lightning. With a low growl, he cursed, "What the hell did you go striking lightning for, out of nowhere?"
When he opened his cloudy eyes, his breath caught.
The corner of his mouth twitched hard in fright.
A young man lay in the sand pit before him.
A tattered bamboo hat hid the young man's face, revealing only his sharp chin.
Dark brown blood had crusted on his sheepskin coat, and the hems of his blue trousers were frayed by wind and sand. Only his sheepskin boots were finely made, clearly the work of the best craftsmen in the desert.
Mu Qingfeng's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly.
This pit was plainly a grave, used by desert travelers to bury the dead... yet the young man's chest was still rising and falling ever so slightly.
After a moment's thought, the old man pulled out a compass and held it in his hands.
In an instant, the needle trembled and swung sharply to the south.
The old man murmured, "A Gen Dragon entering the head during the Eighth Cycle... This is a flourishing dragon vein, a peerless feng shui treasure..."
He never would have