Introduction
The wind in the wilderness always carries an unbreakable vitality.
The ancient trees in Wangyou Forest have stood on this land for thousands of years. Their coiled roots penetrate deep into the rock formations, like countless pairs of skinny hands, holding on to the secrets buried over the years. The fire that burned half the sky red ten years ago still retains residual warmth in the scars on the old branches. When the people of the Lingxi Valley fell into the sea of fire, their last screams were swept by the wind and embedded in the veins of every leaf, becoming a cry that would never go away.
Shi Nian woke up when the morning dew soaked his clothes.
He was huddled in the hole of an old locust tree, wrapped in a coarse cloth jacket that had been washed white, with half a faded feather pattern sewn on the edge of the cloth - it was the emblem of the Lingxi tribe, but he couldn't remember it. There was only chaos in my mind, like a swamp wrapped in thick fog. The only thing that was clear was the two words that echoed repeatedly in my ears: "Guard".
Protect what? Who wants him to protect him?
He climbed out of the tree hole, his tender soles stepping on the dewy moss, and the coolness climbed up his ankles. When I looked up, I happened to see the sunlight passing through the cracks in the ancient trees, casting tiny spots of light on the ground, like a handful of scattered gold. He subconsciously reached out to touch the bush next to him. As soon as his fingertips touched the leaves, a series of images suddenly exploded in his mind:
——On a rainy night ten years ago, several men in black armor rushed into the valley with long knives. In the light of the fire, a woman with hair in a bun carried him into a tree hole, stuffed him with something warm, and said, "Nian'er, wait until daybreak."
