Hua Peak, Black Wind Stronghold.
Outside the house, the night wind howled, while inside a single light flickered like a bean.
Yang Ge lay on his bed, wrapped in a bear skin and deeply asleep amidst the howling mountain wind, time was gentle like water, serene and peaceful.
Through the hazy mist, Yang Ge seemed to see the earthen courtyard of his old home, an elderly man dressed in a grey mandarin jacket with frog buttons sitting on the threshold, puffing on a dry pipe and waving to him, "Second son..."
He drifted over to the old man like a gust of wind, took hold of the old man's dry, rough hand, and said in a daze, "You're home."
The old man smoked his pipe, his gaunt face cloaked in smoke, only a pair of sorrowful eyes gazed at him through the haze, filled with worry and a touch of tenderness, it took a while before he gently caressed his forehead and softly chuckled as if to console, "We should be magnanimous, and not concern ourselves with their pettiness, ah... "
