The people who lived on this land seemed born with the tenacity of wild grass. Even if a Magic Beast attack left them with nothing in the morning, by afternoon they could rally their spirits and keep working toward tomorrow.
The afternoon sun had yet to sink low when the village chief's hoarse but forceful call rang out at the village entrance. The villagers threw themselves into rebuilding their homes with renewed vigor.
Some cleared rubble, some built makeshift shelters, and others searched for scraps of grain lodged between stones. Every face showed exhaustion, but not a trace of despair.
By the time the setting sun painted the sky orange-red, several crude shelters had finally been erected. Their roofs were covered in thatch, their sides secured with wooden stakes. Simple as they were, they would be enough to help the villagers endure tonight's chill.
The women set up iron pots beside the shelters and cooked barley porridge so thin they could see their reflections in it. Its aroma drifted over the village, lending it a little of the warmth of everyday life.
But everyone knew that although the Magic Beast disaster near Rude Village had passed, the Wave's aftermath lingered. Most of the surrounding towns had likely suffered too, leaving them nowhere to buy supplies. They could only scrape by on these remnants of grain until the shadow of the disaster finally lifted.
As for rebuilding the village, there was only so much Chuan Wenwu and his companions could do. Rebuilding their homes was ultimately the villagers' own battle...
Toward evening, a sudden clatter of urgent hoofbeats came from the entrance to Rude Village. Several black horses charged into the village through clouds of dust.
The villagers instinctively gathered around, only to quietly shrink back when they