Wei Yuan stepped out of his room and into the morning light. A crisp, austere autumn chill immediately swept over him.

Outside the posthouse, his personal guards were already waiting for him. They would be accompanying him to the Western Park for the autumn hunt. Wei Yuan looked up at the sky where a layer of dark clouds hung overhead. It was neither thick nor thin, but just enough to cast a gloomy shadow over one’s mood.

It’s already getting cold. I wonder if it will snow today….

Wei Yuan felt some emotions welling up within him. He turned his gaze away, then suddenly stopped in his tracks.

In the posthouse’s courtyard, an elderly servant was sweeping up fallen leaves. His movements were slow, yet he seemed to blend in seamlessly with Heaven and Earth. Stroke by stroke, he was sweeping the leaves to the edge.

At that moment, the entire courtyard seemed to transform into the vast expanse that was Heaven and Earth, and the fallen leaves turned into historical luminaries and Chosen Ones from the past. Though they had all once been bright and seemingly indomitable, once their time was up, they could do nothing but wither away helplessly and be swept into the dusty archives of history.

Wei Yuan was stunned, but when he looked at the old servant again, all traces of the strange vision had vanished. The old servant’s movements had become frail and feeble, and the vitality within him was like a candle flame in the wind, ready to go out at any moment.

Wei Yuan did not approach him. Instead, he waved over an official from the posthouse and asked, “Who is he?”

The official immediately turned pale, cold sweat pouring down his brow.

Two days ago, one of the inn’s oddjobbers suddenly fell ill and had been bedridden at home since. Thinking it was no big deal, the official had casually found a...