The crowd set up camp here.
As night quietly fell, the Helan Mountain Range appeared increasingly mysterious and majestic.
The rolling mountains loomed shadowy in the dense night, like silent and stern giants, indifferent to the world below, witnessing the imminent upheaval.
During the Mid-Autumn Festival, the moonlight, cold as water, poured unreservedly onto the land destined to become a battlefield, casting a silver and bone-chilling glow over the bloodstained curtain about to rise.
Under the moonlight, the sandy ground reflected a ghostly light, making the figures of both sides starkly visible in the moonlit scene. Every silhouette, every movement was sharply delineated, adding an ominous aura to the atmosphere, already taut like a drawn bowstring.
Shi Feiyang was resting a bit in the tent, his instincts, sharp as an eagle's, growing even more alert in the eerily quiet atmosphere, as if every nerve was stretched to its limit.
