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Deep within Zhongnan Mountain lay a forest shrouded year-round in mysterious mist, its miasma coiling among the trees like a flood dragon.
The three men stopped at the site of the last bloody battle-an utterly unremarkable little hill.
Their arrival shattered the deathly silence, startling the crows perched on the branches into a flurry of flapping wings as they fled in panic.
Wang Wei raised his eyes and surveyed their surroundings. "This must be the place," he said with certainty.
Zhuang Mocheng stood with his hands behind his back, his blue robe snapping in the fierce mountain wind, as though it shared his sense of all the hardships this land had endured.
"It seems so. The traces of the battle are still clearly visible."
Devastation filled their field of vision.
Scorched earth and shattered stones crisscrossed the ground like wounds torn into the land; broken trunks and branches lay scattered like stars, bearing witness to the brutality of that battle.
Zhuo Qianren stepped on half a withered branch, crushing it with a crisp crack.
He shook a map out of his saddlebag and said gravely, "The report Zhang Ci and the others submitted last time mentioned establishing one of the expansion camps here."
Wang Wei stroked his chin, slowly grinding the toe of his boot over a dark brown bloodstain in the mud. His expression was solemn. "A large stream runs to the left and rear of this place, with a swift current. On the right is a steep slope with an extremely sharp incline, requiring frequent jumping and climbing to traverse. Only the front has a gentle slope a hundred meters wide."
"Within this Misty Forest, terrain like this is easy to defend and hard to attack. Li Jinghua truly had a