Morning light filtered through the shattered roof, illuminating dust motes that swirled in lazy patterns. Lan Zhuoran rubbed his eyes, stiff from an uneasy sleep on cold floorboards. Across the small shack, Yin Feiyan woke with a slight groan, her bandaged arm cradled close to her chest. Gao Tianrong, already alert, stood near the door with bow in hand, scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.
"How's the arm?" Lan Zhuoran asked, rising to help. A dull ache still throbbed in his own shoulder, but he tried not to show it.
Feiyan grimaced, offering a tight shrug. "Better than before, thanks to the herbs. But let's hope we find more soon."
The trio prepared to depart, smothering the remains of their modest fire. Outside, the rising sun revealed a rolling landscape of gentle slopes and meager vegetation—a stark contrast to the dramatic ravines and rocky plateaus left behind. The weather seemed fairer than the previous days, thin clouds drifting across an otherwise blue sky.
Gao Tianrong pointed east, where a faint path wound through low hills. "We'll follow that, see where it leads."
The mule plodded dutifully as they marched on. Conversation remained sparse. Each step pressed them toward the capital, yet the notion of another sudden Syndicate attack lingered like a dark cloud over their thoughts. Lan Zhuoran found himself scanning every ridge, recalling how quickly ambushes could materialize.
By midday, they spotted a small orchard of withered trees—a rare sight in these parts. Curiosity drove them closer, only to find the charred remains of a farmhouse. Broken beams jutted from collapsed walls, and the orchard's fruit lay rotting beneath decades of neglect. Yin Feiyan paused, eyes shadowed with sadness.
"Whoever lived here… it's long abandoned," Gao Tianrong said quietly.
Lan Zhuoran's chest tightened. "You think bandits, or just time?"
Gao Tianrong sighed. "Hard to say. Everything's so broken in these outlying lands—villages barely holding on, farmland deserted. The central government can't—or won't—extend enough protection."
Feiyan's gaze flickered with guilt. "And we carry a relic that might save or doom them all. I wish there was a way to help every settlement we pass, but…"
Lan Zhuoran placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. "We're doing what we can by ensuring the Syndicate doesn't get Skyfire Protocol. That might be the only way to end the chaos eventually."
She offered him a forlorn smile, then looked away. Gao Tianrong gave them a moment before nudging the mule forward. They resumed their journey, spirits weighed down by the palpable ruin around them. Occasionally, they glimpsed rusted farm tools strewn along a fence or half-buried wagon wheels. Each remnant told a silent story of hope turned to dust.
Late afternoon found them nearing a gentle slope that descended into a shallow valley. From a distance, they saw a cluster of low structures—perhaps another hamlet, or an old trading post. Gao Tianrong motioned for caution. "We can't be sure it's empty. Could be bandits."
They crept closer, keeping behind shrubs and broken stone walls. As they neared the settlement's perimeter, they realized it was larger than a simple hamlet—more like a small village square. Ancient stone pillars lined what might have been a main street, and partial roofs hinted at a once-thriving community. Yet now, everything lay eerily silent.
Lan Zhuoran dismounted the mule and signaled for Feiyan to wait while he and Gao Tianrong scouted. They moved swiftly between crumbling walls, scanning for footprints. Dust layered the ground, disturbed only by a few animal tracks. It seemed no human presence remained.
Returning to Feiyan, they led the mule into what looked like an old marketplace plaza. Broken stalls and rotted signs leaned precariously, but the place was deserted. Weeds sprouted from every crack. Feiyan pressed a hand to her side, face etched with fatigue.
"Maybe we can stay here tonight," Lan Zhuoran suggested, voice low. "Shelter in one of those intact buildings."
Gao Tianrong inclined his head. "Let's pick one carefully and keep watch."
They found a small stone structure with most of its roof intact. Inside, dusty shelves and overturned tables suggested it might once have been a storage shed or a modest shop. The air felt stale, but it beat sleeping in the open. Lan Zhuoran led the mule to a corner, while Feiyan sank onto a broken stool, wincing at the pain in her arm.
Night approached swiftly, shadows enveloping the deserted village. Gao Tianrong ventured out once more to confirm no lurking threats, returning shortly with a meager bundle of firewood scavenged from collapsed beams. Together, they kindled a small fire in a cleared patch of floor, its flicker reflecting off the walls like mournful ghosts.
As they settled down, Feiyan gazed around the dark interior, eyes distant. "I wonder what happened here. An attack? Plague? Or maybe they just… left because there was nothing to keep them."
Lan Zhuoran tossed a brittle piece of wood onto the flames. "So many places we've seen like this. It makes me realize just how fragile life is beyond the capital's reach."
Gao Tianrong folded his arms, leaning against a wall. "And the Syndicate exploits that fragility, selling their blades to the highest bidder. If they find us here, we'll be forced to run or fight again."
A grim hush fell. Exhaustion gnawed at them, both from the day's journey and the relentless anxiety of pursuit. Yet the quiet gloom of the deserted village offered a strange sort of peace—a solemn reminder of what could be lost if Skyfire Protocol fell into the wrong hands.
Feiyan's eyelids grew heavy, and she finally dozed off, lulled by the warmth of the fire. Gao Tianrong took first watch again, though even he seemed more subdued than usual. Lan Zhuoran, perched beside the dying embers, studied the ghostly silhouettes of broken stalls, imagining them once bustling with farmers and travelers.
In the darkness, the weight of their mission pressed anew upon his heart. They had to reach the capital—not just to save themselves, but to ensure no more towns ended up abandoned, caught between warring factions. With a quiet vow, he stoked the embers, keeping a soft glow against the silent night. So long as they drew breath, hope endured, even among these broken remnants of a forgotten past.