The Xuanyuan Realm: Turmoil Among the Tusi

Wenren Dae woke to a violent jolt. Above him was the yellowed linen roof of a tent, and a strange smell of animal dung mingled with rotting plants filled his nostrils. He abruptly sat up, and a splitting pain shot through the back of his head. He reached to touch it, and the sticky warmth made his heart clench: blood. “Ugh…” He drew a sharp breath and looked around. It was a crude mud-brick house, its walls pitted and uneven, its roof plastered together with thatch and dirt. A few bundles of hay were piled in the corner. In the middle of the room stood a blackened iron pot, with several clay bowls scattered nearby.