Zhelan Slope, the longest stretch of road a few dozen miles outside of Dazhi City, is actually a cross-mountain ridge, merely covered by the growth of Heart-wrapping Grass, making it look like a slope.
Dozens of miles are not a flat path, especially with a heavy load, yet the Fine Scale Horse can still gallop up, even when facing the long slope it charges ahead with vigor.
The two carts full of Spirit Rice reached the top of the slope and stopped. Huang Yingying also stood up on the piled rice bags, looking around and found the surroundings empty, with no one in sight.
"Fangzi, where is the person? Are you sure it's supposed to be delivered here?" Huang Yingying shouted.
The guy standing on another cart, looking around, said, "No mistake, there can't be another place called Zhelan Slope, right?"
He suddenly pointed to the road on the other side of the slope and shouted, "Don't know if that's it."
Everyone looked over and saw a cart approaching from afar.
