During the midday rest, the sun slanted westward. Before his eyes, sometimes there were shadows of trees, sometimes light; even with his eyes closed, he could feel it, the interlacing of shade and sun, countless times over.

Drowsily waking up, he actually saw a group of tiny people jumping and playing among the branches, making a ruckus.

Each little person was only as tall as a palm, slender and beautiful, dressed in colorful clothes, both male and female, playing carefree and without worry. But when he reached out to rub his eyes and looked carefully, he suddenly realized they were just three or five mountain sparrows.

"Heh..."

Brian Carter finally showed a smile, gradually becoming fully awake.

Looking up at the sky again, he saw that the few cumulus clouds that had been there had somehow gathered together, forming a large mass of dense cumulus, thick enough to block out the sunlight, casting a dark shadow below.

The direction was just ahead on the road.

It looked like it was going to rain soon—

Most cumulus clouds don't bring rain or snow; they often appear on sunny days and are a sign of good weather. But when they turn into dense cumulus, they might bring a short, heavy rain, and depending on temperature and air currents, could even develop into more violent cumulonimbus clouds.

Brian Carter didn't mind, put on his pack, and continued on his way.

Since he was out traveling, whether it was sunny or rainy, it was all part of the experience—good or bad, it was all something to live through.

Sure enough, after walking only a few miles, the base of the dense cumulus ahead grew darker and darker. When Brian Carter stopped and looked up, he saw rain pouring down, instantly connecting heaven and earth.

The cloud was drifting this way.

"......"

Brian Carter hesitated briefly, then chose to turn back.

About a mile behind was a pavilion, split into two on the left and right, origins unknown, perhaps from some ancient dynasty. Though now dilapidated and unable to block the wind, it could still barely keep out the rain.

As he reached the pavilion, the rain arrived as well.

According to a sign he’d seen earlier on the road, this pavilion used to have someone selling tea, but Brian Carter saw no tea vendor, nor anyone else—only a pile of dry firewood inside, and traces of a fire on the ground. For now, he was the only one here taking shelter from the rain.

Brian Carter calmly chose the pavilion with the better roof, sat down on the spot, and began to watch the rain.

At first, the rain was gentle, bursting into little splashes on the dry ground, the droplets mixing with the dust. But in the blink of an eye, it grew heavier, and soon the sound of rain beating through the forest and on the leaves filled his ears. Dense splashes bloomed on the stone slabs, soaking them completely, and the earth was thoroughly drenched.

The heavy scent of dust almost rushed at him.

This world slowly became moist, the colors in the mountains much cleaner, the cicadas fell silent, and on the mountain path, only the sound of rain remained.

Pitter-patter, crackle and pop, bringing a sense of calm.

About half an hour passed, the sky grew darker, but the rain showed no sign of stopping. At this rate, who knew how much longer it would last? He had already wasted a lot of time on his midday rest; even if the rain stopped now, he probably wouldn’t make it to the next stop.

Thinking this, Brian Carter pulled himself out of his rain-watching trance and turned to look at the half-pile of dry firewood and the traces of fire in the corner.

It must have been used by travelers spending the night.

It was still a couple of days before the start of autumn, and though it was cooler in the mountains, the weather wasn’t cold. Spending the night here wouldn’t be impossible.

Brian Carter calmed his mind and simply closed his eyes.

Heavy rain falls, all things grow.

The spiritual energy in the mountains grew a little denser.

It wasn’t until nightfall that the rain finally lessened.

Brian Carter got up, gathered some dry firewood into a pile, and picked up a wooden stick.

"Wind, cease. Fire, arise."

The wind blowing through the pavilion paused for a moment.

Then came a soft sound—

"Poof!"

A bunch of orange-red flames sprang up from the stick in his hand, looking no different from ordinary fire. Brian Carter treated it as such, lowering the stick into the dry firewood and holding it there for a moment before slowly lighting the pile.

"Whoosh..."

The wind picked up again, and the rain slanted in, the edges of the pavilion already soaked.

The fire crackled, its warmth reaching Brian Carter, making his body feel cozy and his face a little hot. He simply sat cross-legged, staring at the blazing fire, as if something beautiful was hidden within.

Sometimes he would think about his future travels.

But he was destined not to figure it out.

Ever since coming to this world, he had grown up in a Daoist temple with his master, leaving many times but never traveling far. Besides, he had little longing or curiosity for this world, knew too little, and lacked motivation, so it was hard to make any detailed plans.

Sometimes he would think about the past.

Some images would surge uncontrollably into his mind.

But most of the time, he thought of nothing at all, just watching the fire burn, feeling its warmth, his mind gradually emptying, a deep sense of safety and comfort rooted in his genes making his heart ever more peaceful.

As the rain lessened, so did its sound, and the mountains grew quiet, the most obvious sound now the crackling of the fire before him.

Mountains in disarray, rain lingering at night, a lone fire, a stranger in a foreign land.

Thinking of how far and how long he might travel alone in the future, how many such nights there might be, a sense of loneliness rose in his heart.

It was hard to bear.

He didn’t know how long it had been when, faintly, the sound of hooves could be heard.

Brian Carter shifted his gaze from the fire, turning to look in the direction he had come from. In the night, a group of merchants was braving the rain, heading his way.