On the northern journey of Sang Que, Xia Chan, and Qiao Ling, they were surrounded by devastation.
The towns they passed through were deserted, stalls overturned, miscellaneous items scattered on the ground and unattended. From the streets and alleys, the cries of children and the lamentations of the elderly echoed from time to time.
Most of the surrounding villages had been consumed by a massive fire, leaving only charred ruins.
The once fertile farmlands lay barren, overgrown with weeds.
On the rural paths, families with their belongings in tow formed a long, snaking line, fleeing to places untouched by the ravages of war.
Most of them were in tattered clothes, their faces haggard, eyes filled with fear and despair.
Elderly people leaned on canes, moving with difficulty, while women carried young children on their backs, stumbling, their hair clinging messily to tear-streaked faces.
