Southern Yunnan Desperate Realm, Ailao Mountain.
The Great Moon hung alone, mountain owls perched high on the branches, the desolate mountain forest exuding an ancient aura.
The campfire crackled, and the dancing flames emitted a "crackling" sound.
"Big Brother Zong, what's the matter?"
Xiong Sanqi roasted an unknown leg, sizzling with oil.
At that moment, he suddenly looked up at Zhang Lingzong, who was lost in thought beside him. The latter was wearing a worn-out windbreaker, holding an old journal in his hand, staring at the dancing flames as if distracted.
"I was reminded of some past events," Zhang Lingzong said lightly.
Upon hearing this, Xiong Sanqi inadvertently glanced at the old journal in Zhang Lingzong's hand.
"Are those people up north still looking for this thing?"
"The notes left by the Ancestral Master, recording only some matters of the Zhang Family…" Zhang Lingzong said lightly.
The power to record heritage is itself a symbol of identity.
