Chapter 85: Longmen Village
At dusk, in a small village at the foot of the mountain, a few thin wisps of cooking smoke drifted gently into the air. Three or five young children ran about, laughing and playing between the houses. Meanwhile, a large black dog lay lazily outside one of the homes.
By the fields, some farmers were still working the land. The scent of food drifted on the wind, mingling with the smoke curling up from cooking fires. Mist clung faintly to the surrounding mountains, making Old Pine Ridge seem all the more steep and foreboding.
A young herdsman played a pastoral tune on his flute, sweet and meandering, adding to the tranquil beauty of this countryside scene. It was a peaceful and harmonious village.
Thud, thud, thud...
The sound of hooves approached from the distance, shattering the village’s calm. The large black dog, startled and annoyed, rose to its feet with a growl, baring its teeth and staring warily into the distance.
A black steed and a white steed galloped toward the village and slowed down at the entrance.
Snort!
At this time, the horses were reined in.
Wait, no. The black one... wasn’t a horse. It looked more like a... donkey? Yes, a black donkey!
“This Longmen Village does have a bit of an immortal air about it,” remarked the young noble riding the white horse.
He was tall and striking, with handsome features and a long sword at his waist. A faint, effortless smile played at the corners of his mouth.
The rider of the black horse, or more precisely black donkey, was a young man with chiseled features and a calm, composed demeanor. A long saber hung at his waist, and he lacked the fierce edge of wandering martial artists, nor did he carry the frailty of a scholar.