A month later, an unknown desert somewhere in the northern continent.

Thirty or so Gabians made their way through the sand, more famously known as the "Children of the Wind" than by the scientific name "Gabian", and as the name suggests, they lived like the wind, either wandering or preparing for it—counting clothes and dry food, changing bows and arrows with new strings, maintaining musical instruments for the arts, selling tapestries and shoes made on the road, checking the compass for malfunctioning, and so on.

"Hell, so who was in charge of checking the compass before?"

In this moment of disorientation, tired and hungry, all the Gabians wanted to take out the careless bastard and beat him, scolding him for not getting a new magnet needle from the craftsman. Unbeknownst to them, this predicament had been doomed two hundred and eighty years ago: in order to smash the demon into meat sauce, a Calamity Witch summoned a large number of meteorites - although she herself had fallen in the battle, those meteorites with strong magnetic properties were buried deep in the ground and survived to this day, interfering with all compasses and crushing the hope of survival for every passer-by, vividly explaining what it means to "harm for ten thousand years".

A Gabian man was so exhausted that he fell to his knees with weakness. The sand touched by the skin was not hot as expected, but moistened with the spring water. He perked up, and then struggled to get up, and looked into the distance—

There was a touch of verdant green in the arid yellow, and if he hadn't just felt the dampness of the water, he would have thought it was a mirage. The other Gabians inadvertently held their breath, fearing that they would burst the bubble and disturb the beauty of hope.

A white silhouette appears in front of the oasis.

"What's that?"

"Something's coming!" Someone stretched out his bow and arrows, "Be careful, everyone! ”

"Wait a minute, it doesn't look like a beast......"

In a few words, the white animal came to a place only ten meters away from them, and the moment they saw its specific form, the hearts of the children of the artesian wind rose in awe.

It was a reverence for beauty.

It was a deer, a male deer with snow-white fur and a multicolored coat, with warm eyes and an elegant posture, like the mount of the legendary gods, and although the Gabians were good hunters, they could never think of making a jacket out of that white skin.

The white deer turned and walked slowly back to the oasis, where lotus flowers bloomed beside its hoof prints, and the leaders of the Gabian exchanged a few glances before following its pace.

The sky is dark, the snow is unabated, and the white mountains are dyed in the night, silent and solemn, and its name is Grotai, which means "the shoulders of giants" in ancient sayings.

Six hundred and fifty years ago, eight hundred meters east of the Grotai Mountains, there was a human village, and one day the news came that the demon wolves were going to wreak havoc there, half of them stayed behind and half fled into the snowy mountains, the former died on the wreckage of their homeland, and the latter rekindled the bonfire of their homeland in the cold wind - they were called the Gnuno people, which means "people of the snowy mountains".

The calamity forced them to throw themselves into the arms of the snow-capped mountains, and they also got used to the wind and snow, the escape from the world, and the backwardness in the long run-in. The advantage of this is that they no longer have to face the fangs of the demon wolves, as they prefer to gallop through the warm and vast plains, disemboweling their prey and spreading fear in dense settlements; The downside of this is that it is difficult to obtain supplies, especially medicine, and a small cut in a tree branch is enough to kill them.

And today there was a young Gnuno who was wounded, he caught a fox with a trap, and the fox bit through his hand while struggling, and after washing the blood with snow water, he hastily bandaged it with strips of cloth, but the skin around the two small holes was quickly congested, red and swollen, and secreted pus, and with an unbearable high fever, he collapsed on the bed, and could not get up again.

The sickness had blurred his usual sensitive senses, so that he did not hear the sound of flapping wings, the sound of the wooden window being pushed open, nor the mass of white flying to the head of his bed in a rather familiar manner, but allowed a long beak to reach into his pale lips, like a nurtured chick.

Something bitter and sweet flowed into his mouth, and the Gnuno unconsciously swallowed, and then fell asleep again, his breath changing from the previous rapidity to a long and steady one.

The Medic Bird pulled open the blood- and pus-soaked strip of cloth on his hand with his claws, making a human-like smack.

In the same month, many small changes quietly occurred.

A pearl diver thought about her husband who had not returned from a long voyage, until the blue bird put the letter on her pillow, and her thoughts that had been wandering for more than a month settled down a little.

In a mountain village in the middle of nowhere, the rain had not fallen for months, and just as everyone was scorching for the yellowing crops, the clouds gathered overhead, and the rain fell, and many people saw a snow-white woman in the clouds.

A group of travelers always wake up in the middle of the night after exploring the ruins, and screaming evil spirits chase them in nightmares. This fright and torture lasted for three days, but the fourth night came to an abrupt end, and the dream was only butterflies.

Although these encounters are limited to a trivial number of people, a few people, or a dozen or so people, they have left a positive impression on people's minds, and the seeds of hope and trust have taken root since then.

In the face of huge profits, people often fail to properly assess the risks they face out of luck, which leads to tragedy.

Posolo sadly felt that he was about to become the hero of the tragedy. He was in the middle of his youthful life, in order to see more scenery and pursue greater wealth, he came to the southern continent with the fleet, relying on the identity of "traveler" and a few good magical items, he was confident that he could dodge most of the dangers, so he entered the resource-rich primeval forest.

Then he was stung by a scorpion.

Before entering the forest, Pusolo thought, "If there is any danger, I will open the door and run". However, due to the recent encounter with a gargoyle comparable to a small mountain, his perception of "danger" is still stuck in some huge, conspicuous, and hideous things, so that he ignores a scorpion that can only be held by a water bowl, but the poison can bring down a bull.

Ten seconds later, Pusolo teleported himself out of the forest, and then fell to the dry grass with a "plop", he trembled and felt an antidote to drink, but found that it did not get better, the toxin made his skin turn a terrible purple, his limbs began to swell, his eyes began to faint, his ears began to ring, and it became difficult to breathe...... He is clearly aware of the fact that he is dying, and he has not even had time to fall in love and marry a beautiful wife.

Perhaps God heard his regret, and Psosolo felt someone gently lift his upper body and pour the cold liquid into his mouth, and after a few laborious swallows, the stagnant airways began to become clear, and the health that should have been evaporated resettled in his body.

"Adjust your breathing, sir." A hazy-sounding but convincing voice said, "Exhale with your mouth, inhale through your nose, right ...... That's it. ”

After a few regular breaths, Pusolo felt that his former deaf and clear-eyed self was back, and he was trying to see the appearance of his life-saver, but he was wrapped in a tidal wave of sleepiness, and before falling into a dream, the last sentence he heard was: "The dosage seems to have been increased, so there will be some sequelae - you will probably fall asleep in a sweat for about three hours." ”

"But don't be afraid, I'll be watching you."

A raven perched on a sweaty Psolo, and Thoth reached out to it, and it jumped onto the back of his hand.

"Even if people fall asleep, they shouldn't be used as a mat by you."

The crow shook its wings and shrugged its shoulders like a human, and said, "I thought you were busy preaching in the Northern Continent." ”

"I'm here to save money."

"Hey, which lucky batch will get your gift? Wandering Gabians? The Gnuno of the Northlands? I'll do the math...... It's been less than three months since this group of people believed in you, right? ”

Thoth said calmly, "To be precise, they haven't believed in me yet, and today's harvest will probably come in handy for a long time." ”

"And what are you doing these days for?"

"Let people know that there is a wonderful, kind creature in the world that can solve certain difficulties." Thoth smiled slightly, "This recognition will lay the foundation for the spread of the name of 'Hermit'." ”

"Wait...... Don't tell me, you haven't figured out your name yet. ”

"Oh, thanks for the reminder, the one I took before really can't be used anymore."

The crow was speechless for a while, and then muttered for a long time, "You're really not in a hurry at all." ”

"Sharpening knives is not a mistake for woodcutters, and I can't eat hot tofu in a hurry." Thoth picked up his lyre, "And it's a good day to play the piano and sing, why do you think so much?" ”

The sun dances on the strings, and the wind hums to the music. The raven jumped into the crook of His crossed legs and nested comfortably.