The village carried on as if nothing were amiss—farmers leading their cows out to graze, women hanging herbs to dry, children chasing each other through the dirt paths.
On the farm, a man's hoe struck the earth with steady rhythm, dull thuds echoing against the mountain breeze.
Beside him, a woman knelt in the soil, plucking weeds from between rows of green shoots.
Her laughter was soft, carrying the warmth of a simple life.
"Husband, if you work any harder, the land will complain."
The man chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Haha, If I don't, how will we have enough for winter? Our son eats like a starving ox."
The woman shook her head, smiling as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
For a brief moment, it was the perfect picture of peace—two villagers, husband and wife, tilling their humble fields beneath the sun.
But the illusion shattered the instant a shadow fell across their crops.
The earth trembled.
