A carriage raced across the beautiful fields of the Southeast, following the main road, blending into the stream of busy commercial vehicles, entirely unremarkable.
They began their journey in the most ordinary way, resting, eating, and stopping just like any ordinary person would; all according to the arrangements made by the coachman, who didn't even know they were cultivators.
Of course, calling him uncle was incorrect; given their nearly one hundred years of age, the coachman should have called them grandpa and grandma.
Because they needed to find places for meals and lodging, and to travel on roads convenient for carriages and horses, their pace was slow; they did not cover more than two hundred miles in a day, and whenever they reached a larger city, they would change horses and even the coachman, lingering there to explore for a few days, making their journey even more leisurely.
