The dead leaves are fluttering, and the remnant wind is calling for the mountains to be Xiaoxiao. He floats a few inches above the ground, his eyes closed, his hands folded, and listens to the morning song of the birds of Baru'o. The cool wind brushed his bare face and teased his eyebrows.

He sighed quietly and descended slowly until his boots touched the dirt. He opened his eyes and smiled. Clear skies are a rare sight.

Yi patted the dust on his robe and found a few strands of hair that had fallen out. Most of them are black, but there are also a few strands of white, just like wild silk.

How long has it been, he has been secretly curious.

He slung a twill bag over his shoulder and continued on his way, leaving behind a forest that was once full of life but now stood still.

Yi looked down the mountain and looked back at the road he had walked. The softness and fragility of the earth below is a treasure to be protected. He looked ahead and continued to climb up. On the road ahead, the lilies withered, and their colorful petals turned sickly brown.

"I didn't expect to be able to watch people on the mountain." A voice shouted.

He paused to listen carefully, one hand clenching the sword around his waist.

"Are you here to look for livestock, too?" the voice drew closer. "Stupid beast. They always get in here and can't get out. ”

Yi saw an elderly peasant woman approaching, and her hand holding the sword loosened. She wore a modest petticoat with the outer layer sewn with messy rags. She walked up to her, and Yi bowed.

"Hey, I'm not a monk or nun, don't be polite." She said, "You don't look like a man who works in the fields, and your swords are certainly not used to mow grass." Why are you doing here?"

"Nice weather, take a walk." Yi's voice feigned innocence.

"So, you're here to practice your sword, Noxus is coming back so soon," she said with a smile.

"Where the sun sets, the sun sets."

The peasant woman snorted, she knew the old proverb. Most people in the southern provinces know it. "Well, then let me know when they get back. When the time comes, I'll leave the island by boat. But for now, it's good to use your sword to help a trembling old woman."

She beckoned Yi to follow her. He did not refuse.

They came to a wooded field. A takin cub was wailing in pain, its hind legs firmly entangled in thick vines, and the more it struggled, the tighter it became entangled.

"That one over there is Rasha," explained the peasant woman, "and he is a little fool, but he will be of some use if he can get him out of this fierce mountain and back into the fields." ”

"Do you think this mountain has a bad spirit," Yi asked, half-kneeling next to the small animal. He stroked its furry back with the palm of one hand, feeling the twitching and spasms of its muscles.

The peasant woman folded her arms. "Anyway, something bad happened here." She replied, snorting at the summit, "Without the magic of nature, the land would have to be filled with matter, and if necessary, it would even take lives." If you call the shots, I'll set fire to clean this place. ”

Yi stared at the vines. He didn't expect to pull out two knives from the copper sheath of his boots so far from the mountain. The moment he brought the steel blades closer to the entwined vines, they seemed to flinch.

This moment lingers. Beads of sweat stung the face that was easily exposed. He closed his eyes.

"Imai," he said silently, in the words of the ancients. "Iba."

The takin escaped, letting out a cheerful, high-pitched cry. The severed vines on the ground hung like sagging skin.

The little animal jumped down the hill to celebrate its freedom, and the peasant woman chased after it. She grabbed the takin with both hands and held it tightly in her arms.

"Thank you," she shouted, not realizing that Yi had continued on his way. She shouted at his back, "Oh, I forgot to ask." What kind of sword are you practicing, the battle is over, you know"

He didn't look back.

My battle is not over.

After another hour, he reached the barren land. The remains of a village were scattered around him, and the same vines had invaded the area.

This is Wuji. It used to be home.

Yi made his way to the cemetery, walking past the overturned pillars and stone carvings, the remains of houses, schools, shrines, all the broken fragments mixed together. His parents' workshop was scattered among the rubble. There was nothing for him to hang on, and there was not enough time.

The cemetery where he visited was arranged in a perfectly symmetrical structure, with gaps between the mounds for passage through. For example, people like Yi.

"The memory of the rank is forever alive."

He touched the hilt of each sword that was stuck in the ground. These are his memories of the warriors, teachers and apprentices. He didn't miss a sword.

"Let the names of the ranks be remembered by the world."

"Rest in peace."

His voice quickly became tired.

The sky was tinted orange-red, and there were three graves he hadn't touched. In front of the nearest grave was a hammer with a rusty head rusting under the moisture of the mountains. Yi took out a peach from the cloth bag and placed it in front of the grave.

"Master Dolan, this is a gift from Goku. He couldn't come with me, but he wanted me to give you his favorite fruit. He was very fond of his long stick, and preferred to laugh at the helmet you gave me. ”

He walked to the last two tombs, where the golden scabbard awaited.

"Ima, the weather is warm today. Ibu hopes you enjoy the warm days. ”

Yi drew two short swords and sent them into the scabbard in front of his parents' grave. Tight-fitting. He knelt down solemnly and buried his head deeply.

"May the wisdom of your second elder continue to guide me."

He stood up and reached into his cloth bag to remove his helmet. The afternoon sun is reflected on its seven lenses, each reflecting a different glow. He rested his helmet against his heart, remembering the lily garden that had once existed here.

That was before the screams. Before acid and poisonous water twisted the magic of the land.

He wore his helmet, and everything around him filled his vision through a kaleidoscope. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes in silence. He had no distractions. No thoughts, no thoughts. His feet were off the ground, but he didn't know it himself.

He opened his eyes and saw everything. Death and decay, with little sign of life.

He saw spirits dwelling in another realm. They were like the poor takin entangled in the vines, and the essence grew weak. He knew that any spirit that was strong enough would break free and abandon this sinister land. Those who remain here have been corrupted or will soon be corrupted.

Cries of pain and sorrow lingered in the air. Yi himself had cried out in pain, but that was a long time ago, when he thought that tears could be exchanged for the dead.

He blinked, and the material world returned. For a moment, he pretended that the burden didn't exist on his shoulders. Then, he blinked again.

The spirits continued to cry. Yi drew his piercing sword.

He rushed out in the form of an afterimage, sweeping the entire field like a season, so that one could only follow the trail left behind him to confirm that he had come. After a flash, he was back where he had been, perfectly still, his sword in its sheath.

One by one, the vines collapsed. Some slipped off fallen roofs, others crumpled in place.

He sat cross-legged and took in the view. Now that the spirits were singing with joy, he knew there was nothing better to thank. They dissipated, and the earth echoed their joy. The peach blossoms are carved out of the vine where the vines are entrenched. The listless bamboo branches stood upright, like students who had been named.

A fleeting smile rubbed into Yi's face. He took off his helmet and lowered it deep into a cloth bag, hiding it under other travel items. Fruits, nuts, coke, flint. Some things are for oneself, and some things are for the complete purification of the earth.

Not right now. Not yet.

He pulled out a reed pen and a crumpled scroll. The pages are full of symbols.

60

54

41

Yi added a few strokes to it today. There are a few more words at the bottom.

The interval between cleanups is 30 days.

He knew that it would not be long before he had to get the peasant woman to do what she wanted and burn his hometown to the ground.

But not now. Not yet.