The Beginnings Of Autumn

After a number of autumn rains, the picturesquely disordered noble manors in Jingdou had all been lightly soaked.

Fan Xian held his fist next to his lips and coughed. He then pulled his gaze back from the window. He breathed heavily for a moment and then slowly sat on the bed.

The inn had a clear view of the beautiful scenery in the south of the city. Although the mattress on his bed was not thick, it felt very good. He unconsciously slid his palm across the fabric and sighed. Seeing the sight of Jingdou's familiar streets after the attack at Dong Mountain, Yan Xiaoyi's chase north, and escaping death countless times, he couldn't help but feel as if it all were a lifetime ago.

After using the assault rifle to kill Yan Xiaoyi, he recovered from his heavy injuries in the meadow a full two days before he had enough power and energy to head to the little-known path that wound through the mountains.