Ink-black clouds, dense to the utmost, blanketed the entire sky. Not a trace of light could penetrate them, as though the nine heavens were about to crush the mortal world, almost brushing the tops of people's heads.
Heaven and earth lay silent, without the slightest sound from flowers, grasses, or insects. Amid that utter stillness, only the wind grew louder. At first it gently stirred the hems of their clothes; gradually, people could barely keep their footing.
"Pitter-patter."
Raindrops the size of fingernails fell, soon becoming a curtain of rain that filled the sky. They landed among the mountains, merged with mountain springs, then gathered into streams that flowed downhill.
Through the rain, several voices could faintly be heard speaking with unmistakable Chu State accents, a hint of anxiety in their tones.
Four or five people sat inside a cave, all simply dressed, with something of the air of the Mohists of old.
They were all young, their eyes flashing from time to time with an extraordinary sharpness.
They looked sturdy and capable, with bulging muscles on every arm, skin darkened by wind and sun, and hands covered in calluses.
Anyone who had spent years in the army would have recognized them at a glance as military Master Archers.
The oldest among them, a dark-faced man, stroked the powerful bows and crossbows beside him and murmured, "Who knows when this rain will stop?
"Who knows how far the war between Qin State and Zhao State has progressed? I hope we won't arrive too late.
"I must kill Bai Qi with my own hands to console the spirits of my parents and elder brothers."
Of the seventeen people in his family, only the three siblings who had been staying in Jiangdong remained. Every relative in Yingdu had died in that crushing