East Village was tucked into a peaceful valley at the foot of Mount Hua, flanked by dense woods on the other side. Rice terraces stretched all over the rolling hills, laden with their heavy harvest, stirring in the breeze like a golden sea as we made our way to the village elder's house.
I had only been off Mount Hua a handful of times over the past five years, and most of them were for herb gathering in remote mountains. A commoner's life seemed like a faraway memory for me, frozen into the past since I was thirteen, and it felt good to see such scenery that reminded me of my old home. Bai Ye was right—this was a wonderful change.
Contrary to my lightened mood, the village elder greeted us with a tightly knitted brow. "I would welcome all of you with a feast, as is the tradition here …" he croaked, "but few hunters are braving the woods these days with the demons lurking around. My deepest apologies."
