The vast sky was blue and clear.
The fragrant scent of trees spread through the air, filling every corner.
The branches were laden with fresh, beautiful fruits—though none of them were edible.
Amidst these trees, a man walked calmly.
He looked to be in his thirties, his build strong and firm.
His slightly open shirt revealed a slanted scar across his chest.
A bow rested on his back, and a sword hung at his left side.
In both hands, he carried two fresh, crimson fruits.
He raised one to his lips and took a bite.
He savored every bit of it.
"Mmm… very delicious." He closed his eyes, savoring the divine taste.
Naturally, these fruits hadn't come from the surrounding trees, but he had obtained them from someone else.
"The Distorted Fist," a voice suddenly called.
The man stopped and turned to his side, toward the source of the voice.
A person stood there, dressed in black, carrying a sword on his shoulder.
He was an envoy from Yang City, a first-rank individual.
