The little city greeted the sunlight,
A cool breeze drifted through the dim evening...
People walked numbly along the streets, seemingly wordless even when their eyes met. They did not know how to greet one another; all they thought about was whether they could live through tomorrow.
The great calamity had arrived, and many had died... mortals and cultivators alike.
Even immortals could barely protect themselves, so what of mortals?
Along the vast expanse of streets, only a handful of taverns still kept their doors open, hoping the catastrophe would not descend upon them.
A bearded martial artist and a swordsman carrying a longsword sat opposite each other by a tavern window, drinking as they watched the lingering light of the setting sun stain the entire horizon blood-red.
An oppressive atmosphere shrouded this small town that had yet to suffer calamity.
"Let's leave after we finish this pot..." The martial artist raised his cup and drained it, then picked up the wine pot and filled his cup again.
"Leave? Where could we go?" The swordsman tightened his grip on his longsword. Looking at the people moving outside the window, their eyes numb and lifeless, he felt sorrow wash over him, and his hand loosened again.
"Where? Anywhere. Best find somewhere the calamity has already struck..." The martial artist sighed. "Somewhere it's already struck would be relatively safer."
"Are you going to keep running?" the swordsman asked. "Don't you want revenge for your sect?"
The martial artist's cup-bearing hand suddenly trembled, and the two fingers holding the cup involuntarily tightened.
With a crack, the martial artist crushed the cup in his bare hand. Wine spilled across the table, a few drops splashing into the food.
The martial artist's face was pale, his expression conflicted. After a moment, he gave a bleak