By mid-morning, the caravan had formed up outside the outpost gates.
With a final salute to the disciples remaining behind and a formal bow toward Elder Wei's tent, they departed.
The moment they crossed the boundary of the formation and re-entered the plateau's wider trail, Han Yu let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
'Away. Good.'
He didn't even look back.
Their route curved westward again, following the rocky veins of the plateau until it met the winding roads that led down toward the Caldera-edge town—the same one Han Yu had spent a month recovering in.
It would be a two-day journey at most. The caravan moved quickly now, no longer burdened by heat-maddened beasts or uncertain terrain. The guards were relaxed, chatting more openly. Even the merchant, Kuo, looked less anxious.
Han Yu took the opportunity to walk alongside one of the more talkative guards, a stout man with a sunburned neck and a perpetually amused smirk.
