The river, originating from the snowy mountains, surged forward, flowing through the varied altitudes between the hills.
And where the river took a bend, numerous stone houses, earth huts, and straw fences were densely constructed, along with simple wooden buildings and messy tents.
Horse neighing and cattle bellowing, the cacophony of voices—all appeared chaotic, without order but full of wilderness vitality.
A trade route running from east to west cut through this chaotic land.
This is He Kou Ji!
He Kou Ji does not belong to any power; it neither falls within Daqian's territory nor is governed by any Western Regions tribe, yet it has survived like wild grass.
And has grown quite prosperous!
Leading an old horse, Zhang Yuan stepped into He Kou Ji.
He wore a gray robe, carried a dust-covered bag, and donned a plain, middle-aged, sallow face.
Amidst the bustling crowd, he was like a drop of water merging into a river.
Almost entirely unnoticeable.
