At night, a bright moon hung in the sky, with the clear moonlight casting a mottled reflection, while the shadows of the contorted trees danced in the strong wind. At a glance, it appeared as though countless demons surrounded the small campsite.
Around the campfire, Ma Shuai and Ma Yin, the brothers, were on guard, with Xiao Jin organizing the gear for the next day, while the rest of the companions rested inside the tents. The surroundings were silent except for the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the trees.
Suddenly, at the edge illuminated by the campfire, a human-shaped shadow appeared out of nowhere. Ma Shuai pressed his hand to the hilt of his sword and asked in a low voice, "Who's there?"
"It's me!" Han Lengfeng stepped into the range of the campfire's light. As he drew closer, the ghost-like déjà vu feeling faded, and his presence gradually became more apparent.
"Sit here..." Ma Shuai moved over to make space, and Han Lengfeng sat down like a ghost.
