A half-crescent moon shimmered up high in the night sky, surrounded by plumes of nimbuses floating lazily around it.

About fifty miles still stood between Li Mu and the center of warriorship pilgrimage in the Northern Steppes, Rydorburg. His fyresteed was soundly asleep under an old pine tree, snoring very sonorously and leisurely. Since Li Mu liberated it from its former job of pulling carriages, it looked like it preferred to just carry him instead.

"Hey, ...