In a barren mountain area of Liaodan, a group of people stopped there to have lunch. Their meal was very simple; they just took out the dried rations they brought with them and roasted them on a fire pit made from gathered dry branches. The water in their water bladders had long since frozen into ice and was undrinkable; due to thirst, they had to grab handfuls of snow and swallow it together with the heated dried rations down their stomachs.
Nangong Yi also stood in front of the fire pit, absent-mindedly roasting the pancake in his hand. Over three months, he lost a lot of weight, his originally fair and jade-like complexion had now turned a tanned wheat color, with faint stubble visible on his cheeks. His robes and overcoat were wrinkled, not changed for days, no longer the neat and dust-free immortal-like appearance from the past.
The pancake in his hand was dry and charred, but for him, roasted pancakes and roast meat no longer had any difference.
