The mountain path stretched out ahead, adorned with the vibrant hues of autumn. The medium sized carriage trundled along the winding road, its inconspicuous form blending seamlessly into the surroundings.
Pulled by average rental horses, neither remarkable nor underwhelming, the carriage made its way across the near virgin pathway.
Not all horses could be pure breed stallions of perfect color and temperament like Xuan Jian or Xuan Yang's horses. It was also hard to come across a white beauty like the one gifted to Bai Mo as a child, but these horses were hard working.
They seemed to be uncomfortable under Xu Hu Zhe's guidance, but they moved onward still, following the coachman with skill.
Inside the carriage, an air of tension hung palpably. The coachman, his features concealed behind a silver white mask, furrowed his brows as he occasionally turned his head, as if straining to hear something from within.
