Morning's gentle sun eased the weight of the previous day's hardships. Lan Zhuoran, Yin Feiyan, and Gao Tianrong walked at a steady pace, the muddy ground slowly drying beneath their boots. Occasional beams of light broke through the thin canopy overhead, painting dappled patterns on the forest floor. The trio remained alert, but the day's quiet offered a fragile sense of peace.
By midday, they reached the woodland's edge, stepping out onto rolling plains once more. A distant line of low mountains loomed, faint against the horizon. Lan Zhuoran noted how each new vista brought fresh challenges or opportunities. If they navigated those mountains, they might find safer roads or new dangers.
Feiyan adjusted her sling, lips pressed thin. "The pain's more tolerable today. Maybe I can handle short combat if necessary."
Lan Zhuoran placed a hand on her good shoulder. "Only if there's no choice. We don't want your wound tearing open again."
Gao Tianrong scanned the horizon with narrowed eyes. "Let's keep going. The capital still lies far beyond these hills."
They pressed on, the sky turning a deep cobalt by late afternoon. A mild wind rustled the grass, carrying the faint smell of distant smoke—possibly a village or travelers' camp. The trio paused briefly on a small ridge, searching for clues of civilization. No columns of smoke indicated a large settlement, but faint wisps teased at unknown presences.
Deciding to remain cautious, they followed the ridge line to maintain a vantage point. As dusk approached, the terrain dipped into a shallow valley, where knee-high grasses waved in gentle ripples. Sunlight faded in gold and purple hues, washing the land in twilight.
Gao Tianrong crouched behind a boulder, gesturing for the others to join him. "I see a small fire down there—maybe a camp."
Lan Zhuoran peered over the rock. Indeed, a flicker of orange glowed amid the grass. The silhouettes of two figures moved around it. Feiyan's heart thumped. Bandits? Wandering travelers? Syndicate scouts?
"We should avoid them," Gao Tianrong whispered. "We can circle wide."
Feiyan bit her lip. "If they're harmless travelers, maybe we can exchange news… or resources. But the risk—"
Lan Zhuoran considered the half-light, remembering times their own campfire might have frightened innocents. "We can approach carefully, ready to retreat if it turns hostile. It might be good to confirm if the Syndicate has spread this far."
They agreed, moving slowly down the slope, using tall grass for cover. Gao Tianrong led, arrow nocked. Feiyan guarded her injured arm, staff at the ready in her uninjured hand. Lan Zhuoran followed, scanning every shadow.
Drawing near, they heard muffled voices—two men, it seemed, arguing quietly over something. Flickers of the campfire revealed ragged cloaks and stained tunics. No wolf emblem was visible, but caution still reigned.
Gao Tianrong raised a hand in silent signal. Lan Zhuoran emerged from the grass, calling out in a calm tone, "We mean no harm. Fellow travelers here."
The men startled, one fumbling for a rusted sword, the other clutching a half-eaten loaf of bread. They eyed Lan Zhuoran with fear or suspicion. Gao Tianrong kept his bow raised but not aimed, showing readiness without aggression.
"We're just passing through," Lan Zhuoran continued. "If you're peaceful, we can leave or share a moment's respite. No ill intent."
The man with the rusted sword hesitated, then lowered it slightly. "You… you're not bandits?"
Feiyan stepped into the firelight, carefully revealing her splinted arm. "Do we look like bandits?" she asked wryly.
The men exchanged uncertain glances. The second man, frail and coughing, spoke up, "We lost our village to raiders. Trying to head west, maybe find farmland or a safer town."
Lan Zhuoran's heart twisted at the story's familiarity. He relaxed his stance. "We understand. We're heading east, away from bandits and mercenaries."
The man with the sword huffed bitterly. "East is worse. Rumors say warlords clash near the capital, and mercenary clans roam unchecked. We'd rather face bandits in the west than armies in the east."
Feiyan's eyes flickered with concern. Another sign that chaos spread across the empire. "We have reasons to keep going," she replied softly. "But we wish you luck."
The men nodded curtly. One offered a small chunk of bread, though they clearly had little. Lan Zhuoran and Feiyan politely declined, not wanting to deprive them further. Gao Tianrong asked if they had seen black-cloaked fighters with a wolf emblem. The men shook their heads.
"Plenty of marauders," the coughing man said, "but no black-wolf badges. You might find them closer to the capital, or so folks say."
With that, the trio decided to move on. Exchanging a final nod, they retreated into the growing darkness. The men watched warily, perhaps relieved to see these strangers depart peacefully. Lan Zhuoran's chest felt heavy—two more victims of a broken empire, fleeing in hopes of survival.
Night wrapped the plains in a cool hush, the stars reemerging after stormy clouds had passed. Gao Tianrong found a shallow dip in the land for their own camp, offering some wind protection. They gathered enough dry grass and twigs for a modest fire, the crackling flames a fragile island of warmth.
Feiyan sank onto her bedroll, exhaustion lining her face. "So many people uprooted," she whispered. "And we carry something that could help if used wisely—or devastate if misused."
Lan Zhuoran placed a hand over hers. "We'll ensure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. That's our promise."
Gao Tianrong set his bow aside, scanning the starlit horizon. "We push east, mindful of warlord clashes. If possible, we'll skirt major battle sites. But if the Syndicate is near the capital, we can't avoid them forever."
In the flickering firelight, Feiyan gently touched the relic beneath her cloak, shoulders tense with the enormity of their mission. Lan Zhuoran inhaled, recalling each trial they had survived—storms, bandits, thirst, and fear. Tomorrow brought another day, another step, another risk.
Yet they pressed on, drawn by faith in a brighter resolution. Beneath the silent sky, amid the uncertain shadow of war, three determined souls refused to yield. The relic's destiny and the empire's fragile future hung in the balance, carried forward by their footsteps in twilight, forging hope in a land battered by darkness.