It was another peaceful night.
At dawn, cold white daylight pierced the thick mountain mist.
Qu Zan poked his head slightly out of the low tent, and a cool mountain breeze blew against him.
He bent to gather his bedding, secured his pack, put away his belongings one by one, then swung onto his horse and followed the party deeper into the mountains.
The wind on Xionglian Mountain was harsh, driving grains of ice straight against the cliffs and the travelers, piercing their flesh.
The caravan moved slowly along an old pack trail worn by generations of feet.
The yaks hung their heads, heavy breaths rumbling in their chests. Their hooves struck the frozen gravel with faint, splintering cracks.
The entire procession stretched between the endless snowy mountains, slender and frail.
In the distance, overlapping mountains cast vast shadows.
Deep in the snowy mountains, all was silent, the atmosphere stagnant and oppressive.
Qu Zan sat on Bodhi's back, his robe hanging down and his hat brim pulled low, hiding most of his brows and eyes.
After his Navel Chakra reached perfection, neither heat nor cold could trouble his body.
The accompanying merchants and guards all hunched their shoulders and backs, hugging themselves tightly, shivering without pause. Their teeth chattered, and the white breath from their noses scattered in the cold wind as soon as it emerged.
Only Qu Zan's body remained at its usual temperature. Tummo circulated slowly within his abdomen, its warmth spreading along his meridians and driving out every trace of invading cold.
"Everyone, be careful."
At the head of the procession, Luosang raised a hand to halt the party, his voice very low.
Qu Zan looked up ahead.
A large group stood in the middle of the narrow mountain path.
They wore animal hides that had blackened