The mountain passes lay far away, the Gobi Desert stretched barren, and camel bells rang out. Luo Xing rode a fine horse, a sword thrust behind his back and a spear hanging from his mount.
As the sun set, Luo Xing and his companions pitched their tents, set up their pots and stoves, and began cooking. Diao Chan stepped down from the carriage to prepare the ingredients. Luo Xing crouched beside her and asked, "Chan, do you regret coming to the Western Regions with me?"
Diao Chan's face remained fair and clean. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled beautifully. "Husband, I'm no delicate young lady sheltered in her boudoir. Whether wielding a sword to kill or making soup with these hands, I'm no worse than anyone."
Luo Xing agreed with that, especially when it came to her Veiling the Moon sword strike. It was strange and unpredictable; even an expert like him could fall victim if caught off guard.
Ever since leaving Zhao City and traveling west, Luo Xing had felt a little hesitation as he watched the landscape grow increasingly different from the Central Plains.
But the mission his clan had given him still made him set foot firmly on this road. One of the ancestors he admired most was Luo Zhongkan.
His name was not particularly dazzling throughout the world. Outside the Western Regions, few in the Central Plains even knew it. More people knew his son, Luo Wuji!
But to Luo Xing, Luo Zhongkan was one of the Luo Clan's Five Sons of the Late Qin, a man Sage King Zhao had praised for his ability, even above King Wen of Luo.
Someone with such heaven-bestowed talent should have displayed his own brilliance amid the great turmoil of the Late Qin and