Dianzhou, where the mountains are steep and major cities are scarce.
Even the canal network, it was only a hundred years ago that the Qian Dynasty extended it here. Most people are scattered across the countryside, with villages scattered like stars, paths crisscrossing, and wheat fields in patches.
In front of a stretch of lush green rice fields, Uncle Awa held his grandson tightly, watching the blue-clad, black-faced man ahead with some fear.
"Sir... Sir, this is the old man's field."
The black-faced man nodded expressionlessly, then looked towards the rice field, which was crawling with hopping locusts, munching on the rice with a rustling sound.
The black-faced man sneered coldly, then took out a bone flute from his bosom and slowly began to play an ear-piercing and unpleasant tune.
Buzz... buzz... buzz...
Soon, a massive roaring sound came from afar, resembling a dark cloud of huge tiger striped beetles, each as thick as an adult's thumb.
