Chapter 2: The Flying Sword
Flying sword!
Qin Sang's eyes shot open, only to be blinded by the harsh sunlight, forcing him to shut them quickly.
His throat was parched, and an overwhelming pain surged through his body like a tide. Propping himself up on the ground with his arms, he realized that at some point, he had fallen out of the prison cart and passed out on the ground. His right leg was pinned under a broken cage, which explained the sharp pain—his leg might have been crushed.
How did the cart overturn?
Qin Sang struggled to recall the memories before he lost consciousness, his head throbbing painfully. He barely managed to sit up and, upon opening his eyes, was greeted by a scene of utter devastation in the distance.
The ancient trees along the riverbank were either toppled or broken, some even appeared to have been struck by lightning. One tree was ablaze, with thick, choking smoke billowing in the wind.
The once flat expanse of yellow grass was now completely unrecognizable, as if wild boars had torn through it. Deep gouges marred the ground, exposing tangled white roots.
When the convoy had first arrived, the riverbank had been smooth and even.
Qin Sang stared blankly at the scene, and slowly, fragments of memory began to return.