Dark nights with strong winds.
The waning moon hangs in the world, the Milky Way resembling a scar ripping through the night sky, both menacing and beautiful.
Rustle—
Shadowy trees swaying.
Outside the city, several shadowy figures seemed to be darting back and forth, flickering in and out of sight. They wore indigo-blue cloaks, their builds ordinary, slightly thin and small, with skin that was somewhat dark and had a greasy sheen, looking rather eerie.
With dark blue turban wrapping their heads, all ten fingers of the five individuals wore six rings each. Looking at the patterns on their clothes and the material of their fabric made it clear that these individuals were not ordinary family disciples, and the rings were engraved with strange characters.
As if sensing someone was tracking them, the five gradually stopped running.
"Another one who isn't afraid of death."
