More than twenty kilometers from the battlefield.
Beside a small lake, a wooden cabin had sprung up. The timber was fresh, with patches of bark still on it, but the cabin was fairly sturdy, enough to keep out the wind and rain.
Two people sat inside, with a beast lying on the floor.
Dressed in casual green clothes, Loa sat at a small table by the window, sipping leisurely from a teacup. A set of coarse pottery tea ware stood on the table. The pot held tea leaves gathered in the mountains and processed by Loa himself, with the distinctive bitterness and fragrance of wild mountain tea. Loa liked that feeling very much.
Olivier lay on the bed nearby.
He had been unconscious for a day and a night.
Loa had not struck to kill with that sword attack, and he had examined Olivier as well. There were no serious injuries; he was mostly just exhausted.
That sword strike had drained all of Olivier's Battle-qi and Spiritual Force, and his body had automatically entered a dormant state to recover.
"Boss," Wangcai asked through Soul Transmission, lying on the floor, "when's this guy going to wake up?"
"Soon." Loa took a sip of tea. "His breathing has steadied. He should wake up today."
No sooner had he spoken than a muffled groan came from the bed.
Olivier opened his eyes.
He stared at the cabin's ceiling for a few seconds, his gaze a little blank. Then he slowly turned his head and saw Loa by the window and the big purple dog lying on the floor.
His memories began flooding back.
The battle. That sword strike he had put everything into. Sword shadows filling the sky. Then the boundless wind, the wind that wiped everything away.
He had lost.
Lost