The pioneering of the Blackflame Plains was underway with great vigour.
Though rudimentary and rough, the Charcoal Dust Road, pitted and bumpy, still ensured the flow of goods throughout the entire region.
At this moment, the sunshine was splendid.
On the Broken Snowfield, the Charcoal Dust Road seemed damp due to the melting snow.
But the road's good drainage kept it stable and prevented it from becoming mired in the snowmelt. However, the hasty construction meant the roadbed wasn't compacted thoroughly, resulting in unevenness.
Miler, sitting in his wagon, was being jostled so much that his old back was nearly breaking, even with a cushion placed down.
"Miler, have we arrived yet?" he couldn't help but lift the curtain of the wagon and ask his eldest son, who was driving at the front.
The eldest son was also named Miler—many serfs shared names passed down like this.
