Winter had passed, and the spring breeze had silently swept across the Tavitsky Plain. The earth seemed draped in a fresh, emerald-green carpet dotted with tiny, colorful wildflowers, stretching from underfoot to the horizon and merging with the clear, boundless blue sky.
Chris reined in his horse, which snorted as it stopped. Behind him, a dozen or so light cavalrymen halted as though pulled by the same string. The hoofbeats ceased, leaving only the gently fluttering military banner to unfurl in the spring breeze.
His gaze swept into the distance. The Blue Banner Army's military farms dotted the plain, their endless wheat seedlings just beginning to form ears. Neat furrows resembled the earth's veins, dark and pale greens interweaving into a vast green sea.
The sight made the corners of Chris's mouth rise slightly.
Looking at this scene alone, one could almost fall under an illusion... this land seemed to have attained peace, free from the strife of war.
Yet reality was precisely the opposite. Tavitsky was not at peace. A hundred kilometers away, the flames of war were raging.
"How lovely."
Chris heard one of his attendants sigh behind him. He could not resist dismounting and reaching down to grasp a handful of soft black earth. His fingers sank into the warm, loose soil, and when he gently crumbled a clump, it fell apart moistly between his fingertips, black and glossy as crushed black jade.
Chris drew a deep breath, letting the soil's distinctive earthy scent fill his lungs and awaken his Chinese genes... You could grow anything in soil like this.
"You could squeeze oil out of this soil."
He softly repeated the earlier sentiment.
"No wonder the Minisians living here refused to move even if it meant dying, no matter how often the Bagnians came down from