Mu Chen on Wood Valley.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the sprawling caravan in a shroud of inky darkness.

Mu Chen nestled deeper into the wooden planks, his body aching from the hours of tense vigilance.

"Hmm... Someone from Heaven Fall sect is attracting thunder tribulation," He dared not close his eyes, lest the thundering hooves of the sect's disciples echo in the distance.

The wooden valley was little faraway from east mountains.

Ssss!

A soft rustling nearby caused him to tense, his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger concealed within his robes.

"Who's there?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the creaking of the wagon.

A shadowy figure materialized, and Mu Chen's grip on the blade tightened.

But then a familiar voice reached his ears, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Easy there, lad," the gruff merchant said, settling down beside him.