SPLASH~
The autumn rains in the Southern Border were unusually frequent this year.
The Indian summer had lasted only two days.
It was chased away by overcast skies, and the world's melody once again became a symphony of rumbling thunder and a roaring, torrential downpour.
Amidst the towering mountains.
A caravan of several dozen people struggled onward through the rain.
At the head of the caravan, Instructor Hong watched the downpour intensify. The distance was a hazy blur. Gazing at the torrents of muddy water—like yellow dragons—surging through the mountain forests, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.
Wiping the rain from his face,
Instructor Hong rode to the window of the central carriage and shouted, "Sir, we can't go on! If we continue, we risk getting caught in a 'mud dragon's rollover'!"
A "mud dragon's rollover."
It was a local saying.
It meant a mudslide.
