Verdant hills stood like dark green ink wash, with low-lying fields beside the water.
Far and near a strip of lush greenery, faint and indistinct chirping of birds could be heard, their calls crisp and pleasant, unknown whether they were Light-vented Birds or something else.
Pei Yunmeng stood in the shadow cast by a withered tree, gazing at the floating clouds scattered over the distant mountain peaks.
The clouds hovered over the village, like a shroud of darkness that couldn't be dispelled, tightly wrapping around the long days.
How much silver could a bird be worth?
Ten taels, twenty taels?
Five hundred taels, a thousand taels?
None of these.
It turned out that the value of a bird could be so high that it was worth four human lives, or perhaps even more.
How absurd.
Such inequivalent weights on the scales of justice, almost laughably ridiculous.
Lu Tong heard her own voice, "Where are the other members of the Yang Family?"
