The April wind had finally shed the last of winter's chill, turning mild and moist. As Loa emerged from the seemingly timeless, dark sea of forest in the Magical Beast Mountain Range and stepped into the bright sunlight outside, he almost felt as though a lifetime had passed.
His coarse cloth clothes had long since been shredded by thorns and barely covered him, stained with mud, grass sap, and blackened blood that would not wash out. A bulging bag of thick leather hung at his waist, swaying slightly with his steps and making a dull, reassuring rustle. On his back, the outline of his long-handled sword showed clearly beneath its careful wrapping of thick cloth. Though the blade was concealed, its heavy, murderous aura was not. He looked like a hunter who had just stepped out of a primeval age: lean, tough, and silent, with the same unvarnished wildness as the ancient forest behind him.
Getting his bearings, Loa set off toward Fenlai City. As he drew farther from the Magical Beast Mountain Range, the road beneath his feet became clearer, and scattered fields and village houses began appearing on either side, with the occasional traveler, horse, or cart passing by.
A strange flicker of anticipation even stirred in him-would some clueless bandits see his ragged clothes and come over to give him some "attention"? After all, the leather bag at his waist looked quite "plump." As the saying went, the wool came from the sheep. Having just made a windfall, he would not mind "topping up" his travel funds.
Yet that hope soon came to nothing.
The few travelers he met along the road, whether merchants driving carts, farmers carrying firewood, or even a few shifty-eyed men who looked like bad sorts, instinctively slowed their steps or simply turned