Chapter 41 – A Morning of Farewells

Saishan Town stirred at dawn under a clear sky, the palisade gates creaking open as farmers and merchants prepared for another day of struggle and trade. Within the granary courtyard, the refugees who had stayed the night were already gathering their belongings, knowing their meager welcome would expire soon. The air felt charged with mixed relief and urgency.

Lan Zhuoran stood by a wagon, helping Madam Sun load a few remaining supplies. Nearby, Gao Tianrong finished securing gear to the mule, his expression calm yet vigilant. Yin Feiyan sat on a low crate, testing her bandaged arm. The pain had receded slightly, thanks to the town medic's salve, and the new splint offered better support.

"We're leaving soon," Madam Sun announced, brushing dust from her hands. "Supervisor Gong expects us gone before midday. We can't afford another fee."

Lan Zhuoran inclined his head. "We understand. We'll travel with you until our paths diverge."

A few refugees exchanged parting words and half-smiles with the local guards, who seemed more interested in collecting coin than forging friendships. Children yawned, blinking in the early light. One or two families decided to remain in Saishan Town, hoping to find work or accommodations in exchange for labor, though it was a gamble.

Feiyan watched quietly, reflecting on how this ragtag caravan had become a temporary home. "I'll miss their kindness," she murmured to Lan Zhuoran, voice tinged with regret. "But we can't stay."

He nodded. "They helped you when you needed it most." His mind flashed to the man who had asked for medicine for his ailing wife—someone Lan Zhuoran couldn't help. Guilt still gnawed at him.

By mid-morning, the caravan formed up near the gate, wagons creaking under loaded sacks. Madam Sun offered a polite farewell to Supervisor Gong, who waved them off with a bored air. As the oxen lumbered forward, the group slipped out of Saishan Town, the wooden walls receding behind them. No one cheered, no one wept—just another departure in a land of endless displacements.

Gao Tianrong rode ahead, scanning the rolling fields. Feiyan and Lan Zhuoran stayed close to the main body of wagons. The refugees themselves seemed torn between relief at leaving the town's bureaucracy and anxiety about dangers on the open road.

They traveled for hours under a bright sun, the dusty track meandering east. Hills unfurled in gentle waves, dotted with scrubby bushes. Occasionally, they passed small farms—some abandoned, others with timid faces peering from doorways. Word of a traveling group often drew suspicion, but not hostility.

At midday, the caravan halted by a shallow stream to water the oxen and rest. Lan Zhuoran helped Feiyan climb down from a wagon's sideboard. She tested her arm again, grimacing but nodding that it felt "stable enough." Gao Tianrong guided the mule to drink, maintaining a watchful gaze on distant hills.

Amid the clamor of children splashing and adults sharing scraps of food, Madam Sun approached the trio. "We'll be veering northeast soon," she said softly. "A rumor suggests a safer passage that way. But you mentioned heading straight east for the capital."

Lan Zhuoran glanced at Feiyan. The capital—the seat of power, hopefully a place to safeguard the relic—remained their goal. "Yes," he said quietly. "We'll keep going east. We don't want to endanger the caravan with our troubles."

Madam Sun's eyes flickered with sympathy. "You've done much for us already. I wish we could give you a better send-off. But our people need a safer route."

Feiyan offered a tired smile. "Your presence gave me time to heal. That's a gift beyond measure."

With that understanding, they lingered a moment longer, sharing the final meal they might have together. Though the stew was thin and the bread stale, the camaraderie warmed hearts. Children came by to say goodbye, especially the young boy who had admired Gao Tianrong's archery. The archer ruffled the boy's hair in a rare show of affection.

When the caravan prepared to depart, the travelers exchanged solemn nods. Lan Zhuoran, Feiyan, and Gao Tianrong stood at the edge of the camp, watching as oxen lurched forward, wagons creaked, and dusty figures marched onward, carrying hope in battered hearts.

Soon, only a few footprints remained in the road, quickly scattered by a gust of wind. Feiyan sighed, adjusting the sling on her arm. "We're on our own again."

Gao Tianrong turned east, shouldering his bow. "Better we separate now than risk dragging them into a Syndicate ambush."

Lan Zhuoran placed a comforting hand on Feiyan's shoulder. "Let's go. The capital awaits."

They walked in silence, forging their own path along the wide, sun-baked trail. Hills rose and fell, the horizon shimmering with heat. Each step reminded Lan Zhuoran of how far they'd come, from that first stormy night in Baihe Village to the ravine battles and ephemeral safety in Saishan Town. The relic's weight beneath Feiyan's cloak felt like a silent promise—one they dared not break.

As dusk crept closer, they found a flat stretch near a lone tree, deciding to camp for the night. The ground offered scant cover, but at least the tree's branches provided minor shelter. Gao Tianrong fashioned a ring of stones for a small fire, while Feiyan eased onto a blanket, massaging her stiff arm.

Lan Zhuoran gathered kindling, thoughts drifting to the caravan's uncertain fate. May they find safety, he prayed. We all deserve some measure of peace. Overhead, the sky tinted orange and pink, the setting sun embracing them with fleeting warmth.

Night fell swiftly, stars blinking into existence. The trio shared sparse rations in a hush broken only by the whispering breeze. Gao Tianrong volunteered for first watch again, bow in hand. Feiyan dozed, lulled by the day's journey. Lan Zhuoran leaned against the tree trunk, gazing at constellations that once felt distant and serene. Now, each star seemed both beautiful and indifferent to the chaos below.

Another day gone, another step eastward. The capital loomed, still far but no longer unreachable. They could only hope the Syndicate's net hadn't already spread across every town and road. With a final glance at the star-strewn sky, Lan Zhuoran let his eyelids grow heavy, trusting Gao's vigilance. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—and, he prayed, another chance to inch closer to salvation.