The official road stretched like a dragon, winding eastward.
A massive caravan moved through the faint light of dawn like a black steel serpent, kicking up clouds of dust as it rumbled onward.
The atmosphere within this convoy was entirely unlike that of an ordinary merchant caravan.
There was no boisterous bragging from mercenaries, no shouting or cursing from drivers.
There was only the rumble of wheels crushing the ground and the heavy, uniform footsteps of over a hundred pairs of military boots treading through the dust.
Every guard wore an unprecedented expression of solemnity and vigilance. Their hands never left the hilts of the blades at their waists, while their sharp gazes swept the sides of the road like hunting hawks, searching every corner where danger might lurk.
At the very front of the convoy, the middle-aged captain, whose cultivation had reached the level of a seven-star Dou Shi, would occasionally turn back to look toward the Black Ironwood Carriage at the center of the formation.
There was no longer any pride in his eyes as an elite of the Mittel Family. Only a deep reverence that came from the very depths of his bones remained.
He had witnessed everything that happened yesterday with his own eyes.
He had seen how Liu Ling, the sixth-tier alchemist from the Imperial Capital who had always looked down on everyone, went from arrogantly untouchable to humble as dust before Mr. Yan.
That three-colored flame that had appeared from nowhere had branded itself into his mind like an indelible mark.
From that moment on, he understood that the nature of this mission had fundamentally changed.
They were no longer a caravan escorting goods.
They were escorting a god walking among mortals.
And this convoy's destination had changed from that remote expanse of yellow