Wang Ro the Elder returned to the town alone. His hands shaking, his glasses askew, he muttered incoherently as he walked, zombie-like, into the town square. Rain poured around him, drenched his hair, his clothes, ate into his skin. He was shivering when Lo Qiu, the town drunk, found him in the town square.
“Wang Ro!” Lo Qiu said, “Wang Ro!”
He ran over to the physician's side. Wang Ro the Elder's eyes shifted up to the man approaching him, and he fell to his knees, mumbling incoherently. Lo Qiu fell down beside him, putting a hand on Wang Ro the Elder's shoulders, for he knew that this was something serious. For Wang Ro the Elder had never been in such a sorry state before.
“Wang Ro!” Lo Qiu said, “What happened?”
“I...” the physician stuttered, “I... I...”
He was cold as ice. Lo Qiu lifted him to his feet, but Wang Ro stumbled as he walked, to the point that Lo Qiu had to throw an arm over his shoulder and support the physician. The drunk looked around the town square, but the rain had scared everyone inside. Lo Qiu himself had only been outside because he had been returning home after a half-day at Li Bai's farm.
How fortunate, that he had found Wang Ro the Elder.
But what to do now?
Lo Qiu decided to go to his place of comfort. He and Wang Ro the Elder limped to Guo Kenan's inn. The innkeeper was at his customary place at the bar, already pouring out Lo Qiu's customary drink. His eyes bulged wide at the sight of Wang Ro the Elder, shivering and sopping wet like a stray cat.
“Ancestors!” he said, and he moved out of the bar to help Lo Qiu. They put Wang Ro the Elder at a table, and Guo Kenan ran into the kitchen to put on a cup of the warmest tea blend he had.
“Daughter!” he said, “Help me!”
Guo Liling, who had been in her room, ran down to help her father. They returned a few moments later with the tea, handing it to Wang Ro the Elder, who drank it down greedily.
(For, although much of this was an act on his part, Wang Ro the Elder had still traipsed across the mountains in the freezing rain.)
“M-My thanks,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Pan Baihu. I need Pan Baihu. And Grandmaster Zhou.”
“Lo Qiu, go get the mayor,” Guo Kenan said, “Little Jasmine, get up to the monastery.”
The two nodded, and ran out the door. Guo Kenan turned his attention back to Wang Ro the Elder, pouring him another cup of tea. It was late in the afternoon now. Almost dinner.
“You can eat here,” he said to the physician, “I'll add some spices to tonight's meal, help warm you up. But you'll probably catch a cold.”
“I...” Wang Ro the Elder swallowed down the cup, “I am aware. I am a doctor.”
“Doctor...?” Guo Kenan said, for he did not recognize the word.
(For Wang Ro the Elder had, inadvertently, used the English word.)
“I am a physician,” he corrected, and he grimaced at his rare slip-up. Perhaps the rain had done more than he anticipated.
(Perhaps he was afraid, for Zheng Jo's metahuman power was terrifying indeed.)
“Well, all the same,” Guo Kenan said, “Let me get you a blanket.”
He ran up to one of the spare rooms, pulling a blanket from its bed. As he did so, he tried to piece together what could have put Wang Ro the Elder in such a state. What had he been doing?
He had been...
Going with Zheng Jo and Tai Haoran into the mountains. For more surveying work. Zheng Jo had left that morning, after breakfast.
“Oh no,” Guo Kenan said, and his heart was falling, “Oh no.”
He walked downstairs, handed Wang Ro the Elder the blanket. The physician wrapped it around himself.
“...Wang Ro,” Guo Kenan said, “What happened? Where is Zheng Jo? Where is Tai Haoran?”
Outside, the rain deluged down. Wang Ro the Elder sipped his tea. He didn't respond.
***
It took another thirty minutes for Grandmaster Zhou to go down the mountain. His back was acting up due to the storm, and he grimaced and cursed the entire way down the staircase from the monastery to the village. Guo Liling and Xiao Rai kept their distance, for both knew that the old Anri master would not tolerate any help on their part. So he tortoise-walked down the mountain, in the ice rain, panting and heaving like an old dog, before finally swaying into town. By now the ground was muddy, and Grandmaster Zhou's illustrious robes were stained and dirtied, but he ignored this as he walked inside. Pan Baihu, mayor of the Opal Hills, was already there. He looked nervous, at the sight of Wang Ro the Elder, at Grandmaster Zhou's arrival.
“What happened?” Grandmaster Zhou said, “Where is Tai Haoran?”
Wang Ro the Elder fixed the old man with a heavy look.
“He is dead.”
It was as though the rain stilled. Dà Xiàng stopped walking. The clouds ceased their endless swirling. Guo Kenan's jaw went agape. Guo Liling sat down at the table, drawing in a quick breath of shock. Lo Qiu went white as a sheet. Pan Baihu let out a dramatic gasp, a hand grasping his chest. He began to hyperventilate, and had to be helped down into a chair by Guo Kenan. Grandmaster Zhou frowned.
“No,” he said, “That is not true.”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Zheng Jo, he killed him.”
“No!”
All heads turned to Guo Liling. Her eyes were wide, and her lip was quivering.
“He wouldn't!” she said, “Zheng Jo's a good man, he wouldn't, he...”
“Evidently, we were wrong about him,” Wang Ro the Elder said.
“He was... He had his secrets, that's all!” Guo Liling said, “That's it! He wouldn't kill for them! He wouldn't... he's not a murderer, he's-”
“Little Jasmine,” Guo Kenan said, “Now... Now is not the time.”
“Baba-”
But her father glared at her, and Guo Liling went quiet. She went to wipe down one of the tables, to give herself something to do, furiously running it over with a wet towel.
Outside, the rain deluged. Souped dirt into mud. Xiao Rai was attending to her master, for Grandmaster Zhou was sitting down now, his ancient hands shaking. She was frowning.
(For she had learned, long ago, how to feign sorrow. In truth, she was elated.)
“H-How?” Grandmaster Zhou said, “How did this... what happened? Where is he?”
“Green Serpent Pass,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “We had decided to take a shortcut. While on the bridge, Zheng Jo spun around, and attacked your student. They fought, furiously, but in the end...”
He stared hard at his drink.
“Zheng Jo killed him.”
“HOW!?” Grandmaster Zhou snarled.
“...He appears to be an Anri user,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “With power over lightning.”
“Lightning is nothing, compared to the White Flame,” Grandmaster Zhou said, “We are trained to take on much more than mere lightshow. No, you are lying, Wang Ro. You are... you are...”
But the look on Wang Ro's face ceased his ramblings.
“His body,” Grandmaster Zhou said, still roiling in his denial, “Where is his body?”
“I didn't have the strength to... retrieve it,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “I am sorry.”
“Where is his body, damnable fool!”
“...The bottom of Green Serpent Pass.”
“Xiao Rai, with me,” Grandmaster Zhou rose.
“Wait,” Guo Kenan said, “Sit down, Grandmaster. It's a dangerous path.”
“I am Grandmaster of the White Flame Sect!” Zhou Winyan screamed, and his frail voice shook the building, “I will find my student's body, so it may be interred! Out of my way, out of... out of...”
He stammered. Broke. Looked at his hands. Looked lost.
“I...” he said, “My back, it hurts me so.”
The room was quiet. Finally, it was Xiao Rai who spoke.
“Stay here, master,” she said, her voice cool, “I will go find Tai Haoran.”
“I will join you,” Wang Ro the Elder said.
“Now,” Guo Kenan said, “Wang Ro, are you sure? You're still-”
“I can walk,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “I know... I know precisely where it happened. It has to be me. Please, old friend, do not let me give up on Tai Haoran so.”
Guo Kenan grimaced.
“Lo Qiu,” he said, “Go with them.”
“Ah, Guo Kenan,” Lo Qiu said, “But-”
“Do this, and you drink for free for the next two weeks,” Guo Kenan said.
“I'll grab my walking stick,” Lo Qiu said.
The three of them prepared, then set out. Guo Kenan watched them go, turning his attention over to Pan Baihu. The mayor was catching his breath.
“Well?” the innkeeper said, “What must we do?”
Pan Baihu looked at him in nervous confusion.
“What...” he said, “What must we do? Why...”
He bit his lip. Looked at the wall.
“I don't know, Guo Kenan. I just don't know.”
***
Xiao Rai, Wang Ro the Elder, and Lo Qiu went out of the town, weaving their way across the mountain and towards Green Serpent Pass. By now the rain was coming down hard upon the Opal Hills, and Wang Ro the Elder's warnings to Zheng Jo were coming to pass – it was a treacherous going, and they had to watch their every step as they went. Part of the usual road disappeared in a mudslide, cutting them off from one of the bridges that led to Green Serpent Pass, forcing them to double back and take another route.
They didn't speak as they went. Wang Ro the Elder led the way, his face set as glass, his hands and feet numb from the doubling of his journey. He was, in truth, exhausted, but Xiao Rai and Lo Qiu took his devotion to their quest as a combination of guilt and duty.
(And, Wang Ro the Elder knew that they had to retrieve the body, to strengthen his story. Physical evidence of his misguided tale.)
Lo Qiu followed, shivering the whole way, but the idea of two weeks' worth of free drink was enough to keep him going. He would be able to drink like his friend, Li Bai, like a king. He had never been able to achieve the lofty heights that his old friend was beginning to achieve, both in family and in stature, and privately that thought rankled Lo Qiu.
Perhaps he would gain some glory from this, from braving the weather to retrieve the divine body of the hero of the Opal Hills.
And Xiao Rai followed close behind. She glanced this way and that, breathing Anri always, and of the three she alone was warm, for the White Flame stressed being able to burn even in the coldest of environments. She had felt colder, if she was being honest. But what was on her mind now was not the perils of the journey, but rather the man who had killed her fellow student.
Not out of grief, or out of thoughts of revenge, for she had hated Tai Haoran.
No, if Zheng Jo had managed to kill Tai Haoran, what chance would she have?
He was, presumably, injured. Perhaps that would be enough.
But part of Xiao Rai thought of facing Zheng Jo in battle, and became overwhelmed with fear.
At last, they arrived to Green Serpent Pass. The stone bridge, created by an Anri user of the ancient past, had been destroyed by the battle. They could not see the bottom of the ravine, for by now it was getting dark both due to storm clouds and the setting of the sun.
“Xiao Rai,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “Provide a light.”
She nodded, willing up Anri, and white flame appeared in her hands. She sent them down into the ravine, and they shined like stars as they descended, lighting the way. She glanced over to Lo Qiu and Wang Ro the Elder, before she herself leaped down, dancing across the mountain's wall down to the bottom of the ravine.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
With her flames, the base of Green Serpent Pass took on a hue of ivory twilight. She walked quietly as the rain fell around her, chorused rings on the green pool's surface, echoed off of the stone walls. Xiao Rai created another few flames, and they floated around her head like twin moons as she searched around for Tai Haoran's body.
It did not take long for her to find it. Tai Haoran had drifted to the shore, had bloated a bit, was cold and stone-like as she pulled him away from the water's edge. She turned him around. His nose had been broken during his and Zheng Jo's duel. His side had been torn open.
But an autopsy from Wang Ro the Elder would tell the whole truth.
(And, privately, she wondered if the sugar pills she had been replacing his medicine with had anything to do with his death.)
Thus satisfied that, marred and bloated as the corpse was, this was Tai Haoran, Xiao Rai picked him up, breathing in Anri to strengthen herself. She lifted him over her shoulders, grunting as she did so, for a body such as his was heavy, and with a titanic effort jumped into the air, repeating her dance across the ravine's wall. She landed hard next to Lo Qiu, who jolted, trying to hide how exhausted the effort had been as she laid the body down next to Wang Ro the Elder.
The physician looked it over, before nodding in a resigned satisfaction.
“Will you be able to carry him?” he asked Xiao Rai.
“I will,” Xiao Rai said, and she lifted him up.
By now the sun was almost completely gone. Xiao Rai produced another series of small flames, handing them to Wang Ro the Elder and Lo Qiu.
“I'll take the lead,” she said, “Follow my light.”
And she went off again.
***
They returned to the inn late in the night. Lo Qiu and Wang Ro the Elder came in first, trading bows and grave nods to Pan Baihu and Grandmaster Zhoul. Xiao Rai came in next, and she held Tai Haoran's body over her shoulders as though he were nothing more than a sack of grain. Yet Guo Kenan noted that she was breathing heavily as she set him down on one of the tables.
Pan Baihu let out a gasp at the sight of the body and had to sit down again. Guo Kenan grimaced. Guo Liling's hand shot to her mouth, covering it as her eyes went wide.
And Grandmaster Zhou let out a ragged scream at the sight.
“My son!” he wailed, “My son!”
He hobbled over to the body, all but throwing himself on it as he let out a horrid sob.
“He was like my son!” Zhou Winyan roared, “My son, my boy! My jewel!”
And, in his sorrow, all pretense he had of Tai Haoran's potential usurpation, his deceitful death by the hands of, perhaps, Xiao Rai, disappeared.
(For, he did not know of the sugar pills.)
No, in its stead came broken grief. All of his denials were gone. All of his rejections of reality. Tai Haoran lay on the table as cold, rigid truth, and for the first time Zhou Winyan realized what it meant to lose a child. A son, not by blood, but by creed and by promise. The others in the room looked to one another, unsure of what to do, feeling both awkward and aggrieved as they watched an old man weep for his heir.
Finally, Guo Kenan stepped forward.
“Come, Grandmaster,” he said, his voice a whisper, “We must let the physician look at the body.”
He laid a hand on Zhou Winyan's shoulder, but the Anri master flung it away.
“Don't you touch him!” he snarled, “Don't you touch my boy! He's of the White Flame. He is... he is...”
He broke down again. And part of his old 'civilized' self returned, for he moved away from the table. Wang Ro the Elder took his place, eyes scanning the body for a few moments, before he turned to Pan Baihu.
“It would be better if this were done at the clinic,” he said.
Pan Baihu did not respond. He was staring at the body with a slackened mouth. Guo Kenan scowled at the man, before taking point.
“Right,” he said, “Xiao Rai, will you help me...?”
“I will,” Xiao Rai said. She lifted up her fellow student once more, though she stumbled a bit, exhausted from the effort she'd had to exude throughout the afternoon and evening. Guo Kenan picked up the slack, walking over and picking up Tai Haoran by the legs, and she moved so she was carrying his shoulders.
Carrying him so, like he were a boat, they paraded out of the inn and to the clinic.
And there, deep into the night, though he was exhausted and freezing, Wang Ro the Elder made his autopsy.
***
“Say it isn't so, Guo Liling,” Ban Lanfen said, “Please, tell me it isn't true.”
She was foremost in the crowd that had drawn itself inside the inn. Rumor traveled with the rain's lull, and in the morning almost all of the Opal Hills had turned up to interrogate Guo Liling about what had happened the day before. The innkeeper's daughter stood behind the bar, pouring drinks for a few of the mourners, including Ban Lanfen. The widow had been crying, Guo Liling saw, and her eyes were bloodshot and raw.
“It is true,” Guo Liling almost whispered. She felt awful saying those words. Felt awful at the sight of Ban Lanfen fully breaking down, burying her face in her hands. Li Bai had to guide her away from the rest of the crowd, who went into an uproar.
“Dead!” Lai Huan, who had pulled herself out of bed after her fever had broken the night before, flushed red, “Dead, by that traveler's hand!”
“I heard he's an Anri user,” Lo Qiu, in the corner said, “I heard he killed Tai Haoran out of nowhere. A sickening zap, and he was dead.”
“Don't spread rumors, Lo Qiu,” Guo Liling warned, “You... you know that Tai Haoran fought back.”
“Do you deny the traveler killed him?” Lo Qiu said.
Guo Liling grimaced. The crowd turned to her, and a dangerous energy flowed in the air. The Opal Hills were already stirred up as is. And, lacking Zheng Jo, they were looking for a scapegoat. Someone to take on their grief and outrage.
“No,” Guo Liling said, “I... He killed him.”
And it felt odd to say. Yet she knew Zheng Jo to be an angry man.
She just had not expected for him to be a murderer.
It did not feel like the truth. He had spoken easily to her. Laughed with her and Wang Ro the Younger. Seemed confident about his work. He did not have the cadence of a killer.
She hadn't seen Wang Ro the Younger all day. She hoped he was okay.
***
The boy had hidden himself, or at least thought he had, in a tree near the clinic.
He had been woken up by his father and Xiao Rai throwing the door open, and putting the body out on a table. He had watched, with wide eyes, from the bedroom as his father cut open Tai Haoran, his friend, and took samples of his blood. Checked the ghastly wound on his side, lit incense to ward away the awful stench of death that escaped from Tai Haoran's body.
Tai Haoran, his friend.
Wang Ro the Younger had to watch, as his father mercilessly cut Tai Haoran to pieces, categorized him into times and dates and causes, and then put a blanket over him as though he were nothing more than furniture to be moved at a later date. At one point, Elder had locked eyes with Younger, in the harsh rains of the night, mid-cut into Tai Haoran's face.
Then, his father had continued his sterile work.
It was then that Wang Ro the Younger had begun to cry. The physician went to bed that night hearing his son's quiet sobs under his covers. The boy had climbed up the tree in the morning, and had not come down.
His sorrow was for himself alone.
And it was in the mid-morning, while the Opal Hills were gathered at the inn, that Wang Ro the Elder approached the tree, and looked through the branches to see his son.
“Wang Ro,” he said.
He heard a few sniffles above.
“Wang Ro, come,” the physician said, “We are going to the inn. The rest of the town is there. Pan Baihu has called for a meeting.”
He received silence in answer. Wang Ro the Elder sighed, leaning against the tree.
“I want you to attend, my son,” he said, “I want you to listen to what happens next.”
“Don't wanna go.”
“You must,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “You must see what happens. You must see what happens when we allow interlopers to come in, and take our friends away. You must see the retribution, Wang Ro. It is the first step to being a man.”
He looked up. Could make out the Younger now. He was moving, climbing down the tree.
“You will understand, in time, why it had to be like this,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “You will see that our world is a violent one. Let all of this be a lesson.”
He reached out a hand. Wang Ro the Younger took it, and helped himself down.
***
Pan Baihu quivered where he stood as Wang Ro the Elder and his son came through the door of the inn. The major figures of the Opal Hills were here – Li Bai and his son, Li Tian. Grandmaster Zhou was in the corner, his eyes red and filled to the brim with hate. His remaining student, Xiao Rai, attended to him, and although Tai Haoran's body was still fresh in the mind, she already was finding favor with her master – he leaned on her for support, a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. Tan Fa, the veteran of the wars of the Empire, was there as well. He had an uncharacteristic scowl on his face, and he was scratching at his arm, glancing outside. For all of the town had crowded outside Guo Kenan's inn, forced out by the innkeeper himself so the heads of the town could speak in peace. Guo Kenan himself was leaning on a wall behind the bar, his arms crossed. His daughter was in the kitchen, and though the door was closed she was listening intently.
It was Wang Ro the Elder who spoke first.
“Tai Haoran died yesterday, near the afternoon. He was killed via electric shock, induced by Anri, and it stopped his heart. He felt little as he passed.”
Grandmaster Zhou's eyes narrowed at that.
Xiao Rai looked away.
“I watched the battle rage,” Wang Ro the Elder continued, “It was… quite the sight. Tai Haoran almost killed Zheng Jo. He was a mess of blood and broken bones by the time their fight was over. But Zheng Jo escaped.”
“Perhaps he is dead!” Pan Baihu all but shouted. Heads in the room turned, and the mayor grimaced at the sudden attention, “He was wounded, yes? The Opal Hills are dangerous, this time of year, especially with the storm. Wang Ro, how badly was he hurt?”
Wang Ro the Elder pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was frowning.
“By the time Tai Haoran was dead, Zheng Jo had been savagely beaten,” he said.
“The problem's solved then,” Pan Baihu said, “Zheng Jo will have died from his wounds by now.”
“Not if he is an Anri user!” Grandmaster Zhou spat from the corner, “He will be able to heal himself, given time. We are stronger than you all are. We can take more.”
He let his statement hang in the air. Tan Fa grimaced.
“He's right,” the veteran said, “I've seen plenty of other Anri users take a beating and survive. I believe Zheng Jo will be able to heal.”
“He'll be holed up somewhere in the mountains, then,” Li Bai said, “He'll lick his wounds.”
“And then,” Wang Ro the Elder said, with a calculated jab at hysteria, “He'll come back.”
The room breathed in. Became tense, once more. Pan Baihu's forehead became slick with sweat.
“You don't surely mean that, do you?” he said, “I mean, he wouldn't?”
“He just killed one of the most powerful people in the Opal Hills,” Wang Ro the Elder said, “What are some reasons why someone would come up here?”
He let his question hang for a few moments.
“He would come here to either be a farmer, to be a hermit, or to be a bandit,” the physician continued, “We thought him to be a researcher, but he is not. He is obviously not a farmer. Obviously not a hermit. No, his actions point him in the direction of a bandit. Without any resistance here, he could rule as a petty warlord. No other Anri user, no other sect, would bother coming out to stop him.”
“He would have the entire town under this thumb,” Tan Fa said, his voice heated.
“He'd kill anyone who got in his way,” Pan Baihu said, and he began to hyperventilate again. Guo Kenan moved from his place to put a hand on the mayor's shoulder, easing him to a seat.
“Perhaps we should notify the government,” Li Bai said, “Have them send a state practitioner out to eliminate him.”
“Yes, let's do that!” Pan Baihu said, “More Anri users! To take that Zheng Jo and tear out his innards.”
“No,” Grandmaster Zhou said, and he sounded overwhelmed, “No, not that.”
Wang Ro the Elder spoke up.
“I don't agree, either,” he said.
And, once more, he captured the room.
“It's simple,” the physician said, “Zheng Jo is in hiding, licking his wounds, but he won't be forever. We don't have the time to request for a state practitioner to come out here, especially with the storm.”
He looked at everyone in the room with a hard gaze.
(And the Darwinist moved his pawns.)
“No,” he said, “If we're to stop Zheng Jo, we must do it ourselves. He is injured. That is good. It means he will be easier to kill.”
The room fell silent. Pan Baihu faltered. Looked scared. But Grandmaster Zhou nodded. As did Li Bai.
“We still have Xiao Rai,” the farmer said, “And I've got enough workers on my farm who can wield something.”
“We'll use farming tools,” Tan Fa said, “Knives. Whatever we can find. We'll gang up on him. Travel in groups to flush him out.”
“Good,” Li Bai said, “We should start organizing, and head out while the weather's good. I'll talk to everyone outside. Let them know of the plan.”
He looked to Pan Baihu.
“Is this agreeable, mayor?”
“I...” Pan Baihu swallowed. He had lost his nerve for this long ago, allowed Wang Ro the Elder to control the conversation, “That is... agreeable.”
“Good,” Li Bai said, and he bowed to the room, and went outside.
…
…
Such it was that the Opal Hills mobilized. Men, women, even a few children, joined in this crusade against Tai Haoran's supposed killer. They went out to confront Zheng Jo wielding farmer's tools. Bows used for hunting. Knives used for preparing meals. Axes for wood. All of them wielded in the fashion of war. The plowshare to the sword.
Xiao Rai joined them. As did Grandmaster Zhou. The two remaining members of the White Flame Sect joined up with Li Bai's team, the farmer himself wielding an ancestral sword. They, along with around a hundred others, assembled as a peasant army. Fire in their eyes. And they prepared to leave the town and minnow out into the mountains.
Guo Kenan resigned himself to this crusade. He was about to move out, an old knife in hand, when he passed by his daughter's room. He saw Guo Liling inside, a pack on her bed, one that she was in the middle of filling with supplies.
His brow furrowed.
“Where are you going, Little Jasmine?”
Guo Liling froze.
And even that was answer.
“You're going after him, aren't you?” Guo Kenan said.
“I have to, Baba,” Guo Liling said, and she turned to him, “He has-”
“Answers, I know,” Guo Kenan said, “But no. He is dangerous.”
“He is-”
“Dangerous, daughter!” her father snarled, and she flinched back. He rarely raised his voice towards her.
The two of them stood in stark silence. Outside, they could hear people getting ready. They could hear raised voices, what sounded like Wang Ro the Elder giving a speech.
“We will find him!” he was shouting, “We will cast him out of our homes, we will make him pay for what he has done to us! We will drag him, kicking and screaming out of his hole! We will have justice!”
Guo Kenan looked hard at the wall, and Guo Liling knew he was looking far past the wood and to the crowd thronged outside. Already moving out, streaming from the town and into the mountains.
How quickly they had fallen under the physician’s gravitas.
“I know how you're feeling, Little Jasmine,” Guo Kenan said, “I'm... I'm scared too.”
“It's all so sudden, Baba,” Guo Liling said, “I see the looks in their eyes. The... stark anger. They didn't really meet him. They didn't meet Zheng Jo.”
“I know,” Guo Kenan said, “This all feels... wrong. There's a feeling in my gut. Like we're being led astray.”
She nodded.
“But there's no stopping it now,” Guo Kenan said, and his voice was exhausted and resigned, “They'll hunt until they have their demon. I'll be there to make sure they're safe, because they are still our friends. Our family.”
“I know, Baba.”
“But you have to stay here.”
There was a desperation to his voice.
“Things are getting dangerous,” he continued, “And I can't go out there without knowing that, no matter what happens, you're safe here, at home, where no one can harm you. I've already lost your mother. I cannot afford to lose you.”
He drew close, slowly, rested a weathered hand against her cheek.
For the first time, he looked old to Guo Liling. She could see flecks of silver in his beard.
“Promise me, you will stay here. Please.”
“...I will, Baba,” she lied.
She put the bag down. Guo Kenan gave a final sigh. Hefted his walking stick.
“I will return when... when it's done,” he said, “Take care of the inn. Watch for travelers. They can be dangerous.”
And he turned to leave.
“Baba.”
And Guo Liling rushed over, wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Be careful.”
And he smiled.
“I will, Little Jasmine.”
…
…
And when he was gone, when Wang Ro the Elder's peasant army moved out with death on the mind, Guo Liling turned back to her pack. Picked it up off the ground. Finished packing.
Would...
Would Zheng Jo hurt them?
He did not have the cadence of a murderer. Not like how Wang Ro the Elder had described him. In the people's minds, he was a butcher. A demon, from the darkest places of the elephant's back.
But they had not seen him as she had. The true Zheng Jo, beneath his polite facade. There was anger there, but anger born of passion. As though he had once been a very sad man, but reclaimed his joy.
Zheng Jo, the metahuman.
And there, Guo Liling saw no monster.
And with that in mind, Guo Liling turned back on her promise to her father. She finished packing her bag. Put on her straw raincoat, and her conical hat. She took enough food to last her a few days. A knife, in case something happened. The last of the century eggs.
And then, prepared, she moved off herself. To move in a way the others had not anticipated.
To go, once more, to the meeting place of a spirit.