Yang Qing's carriage soon left the foothills of North Mountain behind, but the road ahead remained uncertain.
"Since Nether Lake appears and vanishes like a phantom and is all but a legend, it surely won't be found anywhere ordinary. In my opinion, our best course is to head west."
To the west lay a desert.
A hundred years ago, people of Northern Liang had still lived along its fringes, but the desert swallowed more and more land, forcing them to keep moving farther away.
After decades of shifting stars and turning seasons, the desert became a truly ownerless land.
It was said that not a blade of grass grew there, nothing could thrive, and anyone who ventured inside had no hope of returning alive.
Yet Yang Qing and the others were heading straight toward that desert.
Along the way, they ate in the wind and slept beneath the open sky, buying only essential dry provisions and supplies whenever they passed through a city.
More than half a month passed on the road.
As the scenery outside grew increasingly desolate, Yang Qing knew they were drawing closer to the desert.
Only, the weather was growing colder too.
Bu Er, Jiang Zhizhou, and Pei Buji now took turns driving the carriage, and this time it was Bu Er's turn to rest.
"Young master, in past years, your body couldn't bear it once the weather turned cold. But under these conditions, you can't rest and recuperate properly. What are we to do?" Bu Er was deeply worried.
Yang Qing drew the little hand warmer closer in his arms. "It's all right. I don't know whether it has something to do with that inexplicable fainting spell last time, but my body seems a little more resistant to the cold."
"Really? That's good news, young