Yuan Xuelan was sick of empty towns.
He knew that Liu Sumeng had encountered even more vacant cities and villages than he. Yuan Xuelan heard the stories, the reports that were born from Liu Sumeng's travels with Peng Zhugen.
He took in a chilling breath. The sun hung in the sky, distant, and could not penetrate the desolate darkness that permeated through Xinlie's streets. Old, faded banners fluttered in the streets where items had been left in the wake of a vacating population. There were signs that battle had torn through the empty residences and marred the streets.
Yuan Xuelan found himself in a plaza. When he looked up he saw tall cliffsides that encapsulated the black city. He breathed in. The cold air cut into his throat, leaving behind the aftertaste of iron.
Yuan Xuelan felt foolish.
