The night shrouded the Misty Mountains.
The thick fog concealed everything, making the place extraordinarily quiet.
But within this silence, a disheveled figure stumbled, running and darting swiftly among the trees.
It was a tall, middle-aged man with a brown goatee, carrying a Strong Bow on his back and a short sword at his waist.
"Ha... ha... cough, ha..."
He panted painfully, his chest heaving like bellows, his left hand gone from the wrist, leaving a ghastly wound crudely bandaged with clothing.
In his right hand, he clutched a bundle half his height, showing no intention of putting it down even at this critical moment.
It seemed a chunk of flesh was cut from his left leg, revealing the purplish-black bone underneath.
With such severe injuries, he should have stopped to rest.
But he dared not halt his steps, as if something dreadful was pursuing him.
This is the Misty Mountains, a deadly forbidden zone.
