On the desolate frontier, a towering Black Mountain loomed.
The sandstorm howled, sweeping like yellow smoke, making the eternally standing monolith seem even more mysterious.
"Young Master, this is Black Mountain."
At the foot of the mountain, a radiant Young Girl supported a pale-faced, frail Young Man.
The young man leaned on a cane for the blind, his eyes devoid of any light, as if they could never peer upon the world's spectacles.
"Is this Black Mountain? I've heard that more than twenty years ago, there was a temple here that was quite efficacious..."
Luo Shaochen murmured softly.
Though he had been blind since childhood, his memory was profound, and by merely listening in at private schools, he had amassed a wealth of knowledge.
Of all the local customs and landscapes beyond the borderlands, what left the deepest impression on Luo Shaochen was this temple at the foot of Black Mountain.
