They trekked through the rest of the day under an increasingly ominous sky. Thick gray clouds gathered from the west, their edges tinged with a faint greenish hue. A gusting wind swept across the rocky slopes, carrying the metallic tang of coming rain—or possibly something fiercer. Lan Zhuoran glanced upward, uneasy. Storms in the highlands could be violent and unpredictable.
Gao Tianrong seemed to share the concern. He paused at a ridge top, scanning the horizon. "We need shelter," he said tersely. "A full-blown storm out here would be dangerous—lightning strikes, flash floods in the gullies."
Yin Feiyan, sweat-drenched and pale, nodded. "Any caves or abandoned huts around?"
Gao Tianrong pursed his lips. "I'm not sure. I haven't traveled this exact path before. We'll have to keep our eyes open."
They descended into a shallow valley where twisted shrubs rattled in the wind. The mule let out a nervous snort, picking up on the shift in the atmosphere. Lan Zhuoran patted its flank, murmuring reassurance. Overhead, thunder rumbled faintly, like a distant threat biding its time.
The path wound between jagged rocks, some shaped like tall, leaning spires. Dust swirled around their feet as the wind kicked up, making them squint. Yin Feiyan gripped the relic more tightly under her cloak, as though the storm's approach triggered some inner sense of dread.
As they pressed forward, the sky darkened. A flash of lightning skittered across the clouds, illuminating the landscape in stark relief for half a heartbeat. Lan Zhuoran instinctively flinched, recalling nights in Baihe when thunderstorms rattled roofs. But here, they had no sturdy walls to protect them.
Minutes later, large raindrops began to spatter the rocks, leaving dark splotches on the dry ground. The wind gained force, howling between boulders. Gao Tianrong spotted what appeared to be a faint trail branching off to the left, leading to a cluster of weathered stones. He pointed urgently. "Let's try there!"
They hurried along the new path, stumbling occasionally on loose gravel. The rain intensified, turning the air thick with the smell of wet dust. Lightning streaked across the sky again, followed by a sharper peal of thunder. Lan Zhuoran felt his heart pound—clinging to the mule's lead rope, he spurred it onward.
As they rounded a bend, a sight emerged that spiked hope: a small, dilapidated structure built against a rocky outcrop. It looked like an old herder's hut or storehouse, its roof sagging and half-covered by a ledge of stone overhead. Gao Tianrong sprinted to the doorway, nudged it open with his bow. It creaked alarmingly, but the interior seemed stable enough for temporary shelter.
"Inside!" he shouted over the wind, motioning Lan Zhuoran and Yin Feiyan in. They pulled the mule in after them, ducking under the low entry. The space reeked of damp straw and rotting wood, but it was better than braving the storm unshielded.
Lightning split the sky again, the thunder crackling so close that the hut's flimsy walls trembled. Rain hammered the roof in a deafening roar. Lan Zhuoran's ears rang, and he quickly tried to secure the mule in a corner, soothing its panic. Yin Feiyan leaned against a sagging post, breathing hard.
Gao Tianrong surveyed the interior with narrowed eyes. The hut was mostly empty—just some broken crates, a half-rotted trough, and a crude wooden shelf. Holes in the walls let in sheets of wind-blown rain, but at least they had a roof overhead.
Lan Zhuoran set down his pack, water dripping from his hair. "We should block those gaps if we can," he said, raising his voice to be heard over the storm's din. Gao Tianrong nodded, and the two men hastily shoved broken planks and crates to cover the largest holes. It wasn't perfect, but it helped.
Lightning flared again, revealing Yin Feiyan's anxious expression. She clutched her bandaged arm, wincing at every crash of thunder. How much more stress can she endure? Lan Zhuoran wondered, guilt twisting inside him. But they had no choice—either find shelter here or risk being caught in a deluge that could wash them away.
"Let's just hope the Syndicate isn't nearby," Gao Tianrong muttered, pushing a crate against a gap. "Hard to say who's worse—nature or those mercenaries."
The minutes dragged on, each crash of thunder rattling the hut. Rainwater seeped in, forming small puddles on the dirt floor. The mule stomped nervously, rolling its eyes at each flash of lightning. Lan Zhuoran tried to calm it with gentle murmurs, though his own nerves felt frayed.
After what seemed like an eternity, the storm's fury began to ebb. Lightning strikes became less frequent, and the thunder rolled more distantly. The rain continued, but at a gentler pace. Yin Feiyan slumped to the ground, relief etched on her features. Gao Tianrong took a cautious peek outside, confirming no immediate danger.
Lan Zhuoran exhaled, shoulders sagging. They had survived yet another trial. Although the shelter was ramshackle, it had spared them the worst of the storm. But how long can our luck hold? he questioned inwardly, the day's trials weighing heavily.
After a moment, Gao Tianrong cleared his throat. "We can't stay here indefinitely. Once the storm fully passes, we move on. The Syndicate might use the cover of rain to close in."
Yin Feiyan nodded, wiping damp strands of hair from her face. "Agreed. But I need at least a little rest. My arm…" She trailed off, pain evident in her eyes.
Lan Zhuoran knelt beside her, checking the bandage again. The wet environment risked infection if they weren't careful. "I'll get a fresh dressing ready," he murmured, rummaging through what meager supplies remained.
A lull in the storm allowed them to breathe for the moment, but none were under any illusions. The respite was temporary. The Syndicate prowled the region, and the path to the capital still lay far ahead. Skyfire Protocol—nestled under Yin Feiyan's cloak—remained a beacon drawing in threats like moths to a flame.
Outside, the rain pattered softly on the craggy ground, washing away footprints and scents. It also masked the presence of potential foes. For now, the trio clung to this fragile sanctuary, hearts pounding with both relief and dread. Sooner or later, the storm of steel would rage again. Until then, each of them braced for the gathering storms—those unleashed by nature, and those stirred by mortal ambition.