Hot Wind Valley had hardly any tall trees, all there was were wild grasses and low shrubs. Come springtime, the mountain flowers among them would blossom in competition, too many to count, creating a riot of purple and red, like clouds from the heavens falling to the mortal realm, resplendent and diverse, incomparably beautiful.
But the local villagers didn't have the luxury to admire these beautiful sceneries; in their eyes, something beautiful wasn't as good as something tasty. These mountain flowers couldn't compare to the edible plants near the rivers and streams. Could these flowers be eaten or sold? Could looking at them make anyone gain a couple of ounces of flesh?
Therefore, no one came specifically to appreciate the flowers; only those who happened to pass by on their way to hunting further afield, gathering herbs, or other tasks would pause to look before continuing on their way.
