The soldiers behind were still full of suspicion, but they dared not say another word. An official! And such a young one at that—surely the only things he knew were poetry, romance, and fancy words—the typical refined, scholarly type.
After a long while, they arrived at a low, sunken mountain hollow. Black Whirlwind suddenly stopped, nuzzled against Fang Zichen twice, and Fang Zichen immediately raised his hand to signal everyone to quiet down.
By now, the sky was blushing red at the horizon, and dawn light had already touched the mountaintops. Everyone could clearly see that in the hollow stood over twenty wooden huts.