The shadows of the trees danced, the light gradually dimmed, and the afterglow of dusk lengthened the shadows, crisscrossing them into mottled dark colors.
A pair of clean boots stepped into the shadow, with a sense of dissonance that was incompatible with the surroundings.
The black clothes swept through the dense grass. The man with a stern face carefully avoided a protruding branch and stood on a slightly flatter place.
The sneaky figure that was leading the way just now has disappeared, and Bennett Fu didn't care. He raised his hand to stroke the grass clippings on his black clothes, as if he was not alone in a place where he couldn't find his way. He couldn't see the enemy in the deep mountains and forests, but stood in his own imperial garden admiring the flowers.
A bird flew by in panic, its chirping hoarse and panicked.
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