Underneath the heat of the blazing sun, a son of man ran across the hot pavement and pedestrian roads. His feet pounded with each step, and he swerved left and right, dodging other passerby. He had one thing in mind—get home.
And yet something bugged him.
Items in his arms, they felt inadequate. Insufficient to bring to a Wooden Elf from a world beyond his own. But what could he do? Han Jing moved on to his apartment with nothing but his determination.
The safety of his family and the rest of the people lay on his shoulders.
Alliances or not, the fair folk were a tricky race of all the things he had gathered from other mediums. There must be a hint of truth to the things that he saw on television and other media—where else would they have gotten information like 'law of hospitality' and such?
Swiftly, doggedly and determined, Han Jing ran.
