The smell of blood from the Wind-Eroded Valley still seemed to linger in their nasal passages, mixing with the endless, dry dust of the wasteland to create a unique scent of rust and rotted wood.
Five warhorses trod upon shadows stretched long by the setting sun, their heavy hooves striking the cracked, hard earth. Every step kicked up a small cloud of yellow dust.
Qin Lie sat upright in the saddle, his spine as straight as a javelin thrust into the wasteland.
Chapter 92