Somewhere deep in the mountains along the Two Realms Mountain defensive line.
This place lay far from any Spirit Vein, and Spiritual Qi was sparse. The surrounding land was mostly rock and earth, with no one farming it. Neither cultivators nor mortals paid any attention to such a place.
The night wind blew, cold enough to pierce the bones. Faintly, the sound of a flute drifted through the air.
Woo-
In the shadow of a rock sheltered from the wind, a young man sat cross-legged.
He held a simple, ancient-looking clay xun, his fingertips pressing lightly over its holes. With it raised to his lips, low, far-reaching notes slowly flowed forth.
Yet the sound of the xun carried an inescapable sense of desolation.
He was not halfway through the tune when another figure arrived from the direction of the Immortal Dao Alliance encampment.
Moonlight illuminated the newcomer's face. It was Fang Cunsheng.
The young man playing the clay xun was, naturally, Zhou Yan of Huliang Village.
Fang Cunsheng stopped a few paces from Zhou Yan. The xun's notes gradually ceased, though their echoes lingered over the wilderness.
This was, in fact, a place where the two had often played together in their youth.
When Fang Cunsheng left the Eastern Wilderness, they had parted here as well.
"A Yan," Fang Cunsheng asked, "have you thought over what I said before? What did Master He say...?"
Zhou Yan lowered the clay xun and looked up at Fang Cunsheng. "Brother Ah Sheng, I discussed it with my master again. He still isn't willing to leave."
Though Fang Cunsheng had expected this, hearing the answer still left him disappointed.
"A Yan, have you and Master He misunderstood? I'm not asking you to leave Huliang Village forever or turn your backs on the Eastern Wilderness."