November 11, Yulan Calendar. Clear skies.
Deep in an untrodden part of the northwestern Far East Prairie lay a lake.
The water was blue, so blue it looked dark, as though someone had smashed an entire sapphire and scattered it across the ground. No grass grew along its shores. There was only bare, white saline soil that crunched underfoot. But a few hundred paces from the lake, the grass grew thick again, taller than a person and so green it looked black.
This was the only water source for hundreds of miles around.
Quite a few groups of magical beasts lived here-gazelles, wind horses, and several kinds of herbivorous magical beasts Loa could not name. Large and small, they drank by the lake, grazed, and basked in the sun. There was no killing among them, no chasing, not even fighting. All grudges were settled far from these waters. Here was their only zone of peace.
Loa had stayed here for three days.
On the first day, he walked around the lake, examined the terrain, counted the magical beasts, and found a level patch of saline soil to sit on. On the second day, he went nowhere. He simply sat on that patch with his eyes closed, motionless. Wangcai thought he was cultivating and crouched beside him to keep watch, but later noticed something was off-his boss was breathing far too slowly, so slowly it was almost inaudible, his chest rising and falling only once in a long while.
"Boss?"
Loa ignored him.
"Boss, are you all right?"
Still no response.
Wangcai leaned closer, his nose almost touching Loa's face, only to be pushed away by a gentle force. It was not strong, but it was firm, like an invisible wall.
"Don't disturb him," Wuzhui said. Standing a few paces away,