It was June, the time of abundant Life Qi.
Above, the eternal sun scorched the earth.
In the country of Kazimierz, west of Columbia.
Across the wilderness, as far as the eye could see, the vast expanse of gravel and earth shimmered and undulated like ocean waves in the hot air.
Everything that had awakened in spring had withered under the blazing sun; animals and plants, hunters and prey alike, all sought refuge in the shade, enjoying a rare coolness amidst the intense heat.
In the heart of the Gobi Desert, within a small hillock barely large enough to be called an oasis, a lithe figure, carrying a dead wild boar, entered a dark cave.
She was a woman clad in a black robe, with long, pale horns sprouting from her head. She could have been a Caprini, a Caudus, or perhaps... a Sarkaz.
Sarkaz, homeless and stateless, wandering the wilderness, were a common sight.
Pulling the black staff from the wild boar, the Sarkaz woman expertly bled the boar, butchered it for meat, gathered wood, and started a fire. She added seasonings to the fresh water from a clear spring, and soon, a fragrant pot of stew was ready.
There were many wanderers in the wilderness—bandits, mercenaries, merchant caravans—but unless one paid to hire a cook, it was difficult for anyone to prepare a delicious meal; a clever cook cannot make a meal without ingredients.
However, with only a small amount of seasoning and freshly hunted beasts, this Sarkaz woman, with her tattered robe and waist-length white hair, managed to create a delicious stew, perfect in color, aroma, and taste.
The only explanation was... that this youthful-looking woman was actually quite old. The long and enduring lifespan of the Sarkaz allowed her ample time to learn any skill.
Of course, among Sarkaz wanderers, such individuals were rare. Even with their long lifespans, the curse that afflicted Sarkaz from birth meant their average lifespan was lower than other races.
The ancient Sarkaz Empire had long since crumbled, and the Sarkaz royal courts were disunited. Successive Sarkaz kings had attempted to rebuild the Empire, only to face opposition and suppression from countless nations.
Several Demon Race wars, and the ongoing warlord conflicts, had displaced vast numbers of Sarkaz, with most dying in battle early on.
Moreover, their several-fold higher affinity for Originium Arts and several-fold higher oripathy infection rate compared to other races meant that ninety-nine percent of Sarkaz were oripathy infected.
However, when this Sarkaz woman unfastened her robe and opened her clothes due to the heat from the fire, her fair skin bore no Originium crystals.
She was... a completely healthy Sarkaz, and among the hundreds of millions of Sarkaz, the number of such healthy individuals was even smaller than the giant pandas on Earth.
A light, neither bright nor dim, emanated from her hands, shielding her from the scalding temperature. The Sarkaz woman removed the cooked stew from the fire, her expression exceptionally melancholic.
Behind her, in a somewhat worn sleeping bag, another golden-haired Sarkaz girl was deeply asleep.
Resting by day and traveling by night—this was the preferred method of movement for those in the desert who did not fear beast attacks.
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