The wooden wheels squeaked and rattled as they dragged through the mud. The rhythmic stomping of horse hooves echoed across the open prairie.
Faint wisps surged from the land as the first light of the day arrived, thawing the biting cold of the night.
An old man in unconventional robes lay in a cart, covered by a rough wool blanket, seemingly asleep over dirty hay. The old man was Wei Zhi!
The jolt and loud thump of the cart hitting a rough path rocked Wei Zhi awake. His eyes opened to a blurry vision of a pale grey sky. The sound of the caravan, the smell of the horses, and the open prairie were all foreign to him.
As he tried to sit up, he felt coldness in his feet but a hint of warmth around his chest. A white marble pendant hung from his neck, tight to his chest, seemingly providing warmth.
His body felt stiff, but surprisingly painless. He felt light, as if the weight of a lifetime had been lifted from him.
As he looked absentmindedly at his old wrinkled hands, a strange voice called.
"You are awake, elder! We thought you were a goner," said a tall middle-aged man. His robust frame and thick callused hands gave a hint of his farming life.
"Name is Xiao Jian." The man extended a piece of bread to Wei Zhi.
"Ji Fei," replied Wei Zhi. While he was a bit muddled, his previous life of intrigues and torment triggered his paranoia. He accepted the piece of bread and pretended to start eating it.
"Tell me if you need anything, elder." Xiao Jian walked by the cart as he moved to give bread to other carts.
Wei Zhi put down the dry piece of bread. Although he had been unconscious for an unknown amount of time, he did not feel hunger.
He found out that he was in a caravan with at least a dozen carts. Several guards in black robes with leather armor escorted the group as they moved on a rough path in an expansive prairie. The guards carried banners with signs that Wei Zhi could not read.
Behind them, a large dark forest stretched as far as he could see. Far ahead, a set of mountains rose in the distance, likely the caravan's destination.
As the sun rose in the sky, the caravan made a rest stop. Folks descended from the different carts, women, children, and elderly people mostly.
Wei Zhi walked close to a group of elderly people by a makeshift firepit. Likely it was winter. Although the sun had risen to the top of the sky, the land felt as cold as a frozen river. Wisps of vapor slowly rose everywhere, filling the area with a thin fog.
"Old fellow, I have not seen you before. From which village did you stray from?" asked a bald old man with a white beard. Other folks at the firepit looked at Wei Zhi.
"I apologize, fellows. My mind is foggy. I remember little more than words and a name." He sat by the man talking to him and handed him a piece of the bread he got earlier. "Name is Ji Fei."
"Fellow Ji, this old man is Chen Fan. My hometown in Huanmu Valley got burned down in a bandit raid," said the old man as he slowly munched on the bread with the few teeth he had remaining.
Chen Fan gave a long sigh. His breath slowly descended as it froze in the air. "They came at night. No torches, no shouting. Just the sound of screams and crackling fire. I fell in a well. When I climbed out, the whole town was reduced to cinders. My sons, my grandsons, all gone."
Chen Fan tightened his dry and wrinkled hands. His head lowered, hiding the pain and glazed eyes. Others in the group shared similar stories, every face a face of dejection and hopelessness.
Wei Zhi was familiar with this pain, hopelessness. He grabbed his chest as if in pain. "Fellows, I may not remember, but I share the same pain down to my bones." He put his hand on Chen Fan's shoulder.
"The old oak may be battered and broken by the storm, but its roots run deep, so it stands strong."
Chen Fan looked up, meeting Wei Zhi's eyes. "Fellow Ji, your words are deep. You are right, we still live. Maybe my sons and grandsons are still out there looking for me." A glimmer of hope returned to the eyes of the folk in the firepit.
As the mood changed, Xiao Jian arrived with some provisions for the elderly.
"Elder Ji, good to see you are fitting in," he greeted Wei Zhi as he handed out dry bread rations.
"Yes, fellow Ji, you may not remember your past, but your words are refined and deep, like a scholar," spoke out Chen Fan.
"Perhaps I was a scholar once. The mind remembers what the heart holds dear, I suppose." Wei Zhi stroked his pointy white beard, looking more the part.
"Oh? I found Uncle Ji deep in a pit of mud, frozen. I thought he was just a corpse, but I saw him breathing. The guards told me to leave him, so I pulled him into the hay cart," said Xiao Jian as he took a seat at the firepit.
"The guards? What about them? I don't recognize the banners." Wei Zhi looked at Xiao Jian. "They are troops sent by the local lord. They said that a large bandit raid is going to happen soon and are evacuating everyone. However..." Xiao Jian stood silently, wondering for a moment. Wei Zhi's eyes narrowed as he waited for Xiao Jian to continue.
"They said it was bandits. However, I know what I saw that night. The men clad in black came in silently in the darkness without any light or torches. They jumped ten-foot walls like pebbles. I even saw one set a house ablaze without any torch," spoke Xiao Jian, almost whispering.
"Immortals? But nobody has seen one in generations." Chen Fan furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, recalling what happened that night. Everybody exchanged glances in silence as the fire started to sputter out.
A light wind surged from the west, slowly dispersing the fog. A man on a horse returned from scouting ahead, turning the guards astir.
"Looks like that is our cue to leave." Xiao Jian stood up and cleaned his clothes as he reached out to help the elders stand up.
"No need." Waving his hand, Wei Zhi stood up easily, albeit slowly.
As the rest of the elders got up, everybody boarded the carts to continue their journey. Wei Zhi returned to the hay cart, preferring to keep some distance to organize his thoughts.