During Mid-Autumn, the Helan Mountain Range seemed to be swept into a chaotic dream. The fierce wind was like an ancient Demon God breaking free from a millennia-old seal, roaring in with the power to overturn mountains and seas. In an instant, yellow sand filled the sky, as if invisible giant hands were scattering golden grains into the firmament, seemingly intent on turning the entire world a dusky yellow.
Thick branches danced like crazed ghosts in the gusts, twisting and swaying wildly, producing creaking sounds akin to anguished sobs. They seemed to struggle against the savage wind, yet also appeared as if they could be uprooted and whisked away into the unknown void at any moment.
The distant mountain ridges hid behind the curtain of the storm, wavering in and out of view like mythical fairy mountains floating within the mist, mysterious and exuding a chilling aura.
