Han Pool was flanked by cliffs on three sides, which made it difficult to find a foothold, except for one narrow, steep slope leading to the unknown beyond.
The path upwards was fraught with thorns, and Pei Jue would stop at intervals to chop down branches with his knife, cleaving a way forward before returning to assist Feng Yun, maintaining his silence throughout the serious endeavor.
Each stroke of the blade was imbued with a wild strength, his features composed and silent, as beads of moisture—indistinguishable as sweat or rain—dotted his face.
Feng Yun obediently waited and followed him forward.
The surrounding silence was broken occasionally by the sight of grooves etched into the cliff by dripping water, a startling reminder of the landscape's power.
With Pei Jue by her side, Feng Yun didn't feel afraid, though the lack of movement made her a bit cold.
The rain intensified.
Both of them were drenched like drowned rats.
