Harrow Edge Town had never looked particularly impressive.
Its walls were practical rather than grand, built from thick stone reinforced with timber and formation arrays that prioritized durability over aesthetics. The gates were wide enough for caravans and hunting parties, not for ceremonies. The towers were squat and utilitarian. The streets within were packed, noisy, and perpetually muddy or snowy depending on the season.
But to Han Yu, stumbling out of the Harrow Mountains after everything he had endured, it might as well have been an imperial capital blessed by the heavens themselves.
The moment the town came into view, his eyes nearly teared up.
"Civilization…" Han Yu whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Walls. Roads. People who are not trying to eat my soul."
He did not slow down.
In fact, he sped up.
