The procession wound through the mountains and forests, with the wheels of the carriages creaking and groaning.
Along the road on both sides, the bamboo groves swayed in the lush shadows, deep and ink-like.
The sky was overcast, and from time to time, the mountain wind howled, rustling the bamboo groves and tossing the withered yellow leaves into chaotic dance.
Li Yan urged his horse forward, lifting his head to survey the distance.
Beyond the opposite hill, there were several scattered lakes.
The largest ones, like mirrors, reflected the heavens.
The smaller ones, like pearls, were serene and clear.
Between the lake surface and the mountains, mists lingered, creating a scene with its own charm.
"It truly deserves to be called the land of a thousand lakes."
Li Yan turned his head and smiled, "We've only left Han Yang for a short while, and all along the way, there are lakes; this place must be the Ancient Yunmeng Swamp."
