The wild autumn grass grows chaotically and low, with withered stalks bending towards the ground.
Only a few scattered stalks still hold their resilience, as the last vestiges of life in the wasteland, swaying shakily in the wind, making a gentle "rustle" sound.
But as soon as the autumn wind sweeps by, it lifts up countless withered grass fragments, like a flowing sand mist, spreading across the ground, enveloped in dust, making one's nasal cavity dry and uncomfortable.
The climate in Stone Province has always been distinct; once autumn arrives, the greenery of the grass and trees fades rapidly, until only withered remains are left.
Looking as far as the eye can see, the world is an endless expanse of earthy yellow, with not a hint of vibrant color, nor a trace of human presence.
