After the victory feast, the remaining horse meat was piled high, emitting a rich aroma.
Everyone followed Shi Feiyang's instructions, methodically turning it into rations.
Their techniques were skillful; some wielding sharp blades, slicing the horse meat into paper-thin slices with fluid movements; others using their coarse hands to carefully rub salt into the meat, their focused expressions resembling a sacred ritual.
Then, they hung the prepared horse meat outside the tents to dry, under the sunlight it glittered temptingly.
Shi Feiyang walked over with his hands behind his back, his posture tall and imposing like a towering mountain.
He took out once again the miraculous deerskin bag, which looked ordinary but held hidden secrets.
The bag's textures resembled the paths of stars, mysterious and deep, warm to the touch, as if alive, whispering the secrets of time.
