Chapter 1051: Chapter 67: Eight Thousand Li to the Western Regions
The won are at ho, tending to the cattle and sheep.
When the water flow of the oasis gradually dries up, a new oasis will inevitably appear, and everyone will find new hos, migrating two to three tis every year. The elders know where the water sources are, and they will convey this knowledge to the most intelligent mbers of the tribe. Passed down from generation to generation, this is the most precious knowledge—the knowledge of survival.
Samman and his companions took Wang Anfeng to the first settlent.
But they could only see the corpse of the dried-up lake and withered trees, and traces left by tents. Samman was used to it and continued to look for the next settlent.
On the twenty-first day after Wang Anfeng left the Western Regions.
Wang Anfeng encountered the first sandstorm in his life.
Samman, who was always calm, was anxious and powerless then, almost like a child, shouting loudly. In a mont of panic, he was no longer using the official language of Great Qin but a language Wang Anfeng did not understand.
The horse uneasily stepped forward with its front hooves.
Only Wang Anfeng sat on horseback, both he and the horse a bit dazed.
He looked at the distant horizon, where a layer of dreamy blue-purple color rose up in the distance. The sunset light was as red as blood, accompanied by sounds like the roar of millions, as rough and hard sand was swept up by the violent wind.
It was as if the whole Heaven and Earth were wrapped within.
Even though they hadn’t yet approached, Wang Anfeng could already feel the pressure, his breathing not as smooth as before. He looked at the black storm, but his right hand unconsciously rested on the hilt of the knife at his waist.
His pupils slightly contracted, locking onto the storm.
He could almost feel the blade humming, a tempting thought erging in his mind—
With such a furious sandstorm, what would it be like if he slashed into it?
As soon as this thought arose, it quickly expanded. With its ergence, the broken Mo Blade in the sheath lowly wailed incessantly.
The mount below him neighed excitedly, with faint sparks dancing on its four hooves.
Wang Anfeng took a deep breath, almost instantly transitioning to the process of climbing Qi chanism. His breathing subconsciously beca long, muscles slowly tensing from the hand grasping the knife, Qi chanism slowly circulating, pouring into the blade, filling the sheath.
Like a strong crossbow slowly being drawn.
The knife blade slowly unsheathed.
Just then, a big hand grabbed his arm, pulling him down with all its might, bringing him back from that semi-conscious state. His body slightly shock, instinctively turning to look.
Samman seed to be shouting, but the sound was faint. Wang Anfeng quickly realized this was because a greater sound was roaring around, pressing down on Sammman’s voice, turning it into sothing light and distant.
“Quickly get down, don’t you want to live?! Hurry up and lie down, where’s the cloth?”
“Cover yourself, the sandstorm is coming!”
Wang Anfeng exhaled, releasing the hilt of the knife with his right hand and dismounting.
The caravan circled around, forming a circle, the horses kneeling down, the Parthians covering themselves with the cloth draped over the horses’ backs, eyes tightly closed.
The sandstorm, which was just in a distant place, quickly approached, stirred sand and gravel striking the oilcloth, issuing sounds reminiscent of rain, stinging painfully. Wang Anfeng sensed sothing amiss, seemingly a stronger storm approaching.
His right hand propped on the ground, the Qi chanism unique to Martial Artist exploded, directly shrouding the entire caravan.
In that instant, amidst the pitch-black storm, a normal place distinctly appeared. Yet everyone buried their heads deeply, unseeing of this scene.
Heaven and Earth were dim and somber. It was unknown how long it lasted before the overwhelming feeling gradually faded.
Samman moved slightly, lifting the oilcloth covering his head, shaking off the heavy sand, standing up to see, finding no major losses, heaved a sigh of relief—none were swept away by the wind, only losing so of the goods.
Those clay bowls after all were fragile, so were broken, wine jars had so cracks, with wine seeping into the sand, gone instantly without a trace.
Most people were rendered hazy and dazed.
Uncertain how long the sandstorm lasted, the sky was already clear night sky.
“Ha ha ha… really, good luck.”
Samman laughed heartily twice, sitting down on the ground, a bit powerless, with the thrill of surviving a disaster, gazing at the clear starry sky in a daze. Wang Anfeng, feeling apologetic for his earlier obsession, had yet to utter an apology when Samman already looked at him laughing:
“Hahaha, first ti seeing a sandstorm, right?”
Wang Anfeng nodded.
Samman squinted his eyes, finding his back sowhat hard and uncomfortable, reaching back; reaching, he pulled out a pale bone, sighed, tossing the bone aside, said:
“I froze the first ti I saw this too.”
“We only lost so goods, it’s indeed great luck. If we’re not careful, losing people and horses is a common occurrence… Sandstorms are scarier than any natural disaster, unknown how many die each year.”
“Not directly killed by the sandstorm, but swept away, lost on the way, without supplies, slowly starving and eventually turning into a skeleton, buried under yellow sand.”
“Just like this, unknown when might be uncovered…”
“In our legends, those dying in sandstorms will forever be trapped in the desert’s storm, never finding a way out, repeatedly trekking, alas, truly unable to find peace after death, huh huh…”
Samman spat, filled with sand, continued:
“Winter sandstorms are most dangerous, no losses this ti, truly lucky.”
“Not sure which Heavenly God blessed us.”
Wang Anfeng nodded, then shook his head, said:
“What Immortal?”
“Indeed just lucky.”
The sheath beside his waist tilted, spilling so sand, the high-quality old cattle leather sheath already pierced, feeling his right hand sowhat sore, chest and abdon an almost slight swelling pain sensation.
Resisting the might of Heaven and Earth relying on Qi chanism, it was still sowhat against one’s limits.
Samman laughed heartily, said:
“Lucky then, lucky it is, but we finally arrived!”
He raised his hand pointing afar, due to the ferocious wind, their location being relatively high, the night sky clear, visibility seeing very far, Wang Anfeng following his direction, saw in the desert a patch of white tents.
And the encircled bonfire.
Even him, exhaled lightly.
A month of trek.
Finally, arrived…
Parthia in the Western Regions of Thirty-Six Kingdoms.
PS: Currently in the phase of outlining and main plot developnt, the ti spent writing daily has drastically decreased, thus it’s difficult to update eight or nine thousand words like before, sotis less.
Once I’m ready, perhaps it’ll evolve, but currently inadequate energy.
Today, seven thousand words.
Thanks to Alos_Yui for the generous reward, thank you
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