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That day when Shijian the Qilin laid Ming's body on the stone bed, Ming's soul went into a journey on its own.
Ming found himself inside an endless desert with nothing but sandy dunes and meter-length tornadoes around him. Brownish sands covered his line of sight as the wind carried it. It brushed his face, leaving a stinging pain on Ming's skin. He had to pull his sleeves down, clipping the edge with his fingers while covering his face to keep the sand from touching his skin.
"Where am I?"
Small whirlwinds as high as his waist hit him but did not do any harm as he was a wind Chiangda. As it reached him, the whirlwinds only died down, settling the sand under his clothes and feet.
