Eight o'clock in the evening.
After checking in, Chen Yun briefly tidied up and took the opportunity to let the silly dog Bai Jin get acquainted with the surroundings.
Having declined the dinner offered by Zheng Yuliang,
Chen Yun immediately locked his bedroom door from the inside and slipped out.
With night quietly descending, the fishing village by the sea was enveloped in an unusual tranquility. The sky was no longer the usual gradient blue but was covered by thick clouds, which hung heavily on the horizon like giant ink blots.
Though the real typhoon had not yet officially arrived,
the subtle signs were becoming increasingly evident.
Guided by the expansive perception of the Transparent World, Chen Yun walked through intersection after intersection and path after path with the skill and certainty of someone who had lived in this village for over a decade.
He didn't head to his own little harbor in the village.
Instead, he followed the coastline northward.
