The pair exited Caihe without any trouble. Looking over her shoulder, Pia watched the large stone walls grow further away. A bit of regret soured her mood. Caihe had been overwhelming, but she wished she'd gotten to explore it more. Especially considering what Buzhi had gotten her caught up in. Mentally, Pia sent up a prayer to the gods that the shopkeeper wouldn't remember her face.

On the other side of the path, Buzhi seemed to have no cares in the world. His fine robes flapped in the breeze as they cantered down the path. Any time he met her gaze, he smiled widely.

It was disconcerting. Now that distance and time had gotten between them and the incident at the jewelry shop, Pia couldn't help but feel worried. Had she just helped him steal from the shopkeeper? Based on the spiritual quality of the items, it seemed likely that Buzhi was telling the truth about them being stolen property. Still, feelings of guilt insisted on flooding her mind.

They reached a fork in the road, and Buzhi took the right path, heading east again. As the path continued, it got rockier, forcing them to slow to a walk and allowing the horses to catch their breath.

Taking advantage of the slow pace, Pia removed the ring, which had been still on her hand. Holding it out, she said, "Here."

Pressing his leg to Shuai's side, he side-passed close, plucking it from her palm.

"I almost forgot about that," he said with a chuckle, tucking it away inside his belt.

The casual way he handled that ring startled a bemused chuckle from her. She'd only worn his ring for a short time but in that time, it had been a heavy burden. If anything had happened to it… The thought made her feel sick just thinking of it.

When Pia reached for the hairpin next, Buzhi shifted his weight and moved Shuai away.

"Leave it. It pairs well with you. Consider it a welcoming gift to the Wraiths, if you must."

Twenty-five million silvers worth as a 'welcoming gift'…The thought made her feel even queasier. Seeing her dubious expression, Buzhi sighed.

"The hairpin isn't worth as much as the shopkeeper believed. He saw you liked it and upped the price. It has value, sure. To most people, it's just a hairpin, though," he said.

"Most people?" Pia asked, once more bringing her hand to the pin, feeling that strange spiritual power that emanated from it. The tips of her fingers buzzed at the touch.

"Mhmm," he said. "It's a Yangui pin. Not exactly useful for the common folk."

Her brows furrowed at that.

"I don't have any talent for ghost speaking or spirit tuning."

Shifting in his saddle, Buzhi gave her a smirk.

"Who can really say what a talent is? Is it born or nurtured?" he said, with a lively throw of his hands.

"Can't it be a mix of both?"

He scoffed. "Logic isn't as fun as thinking about things. Having a question is often better than an answer."

"Well, I have a question for you."

"Let's hear it."

"Where are we going?"

"See, this is what I'm talking about. Doesn't the question inspire multiple threads of speculations spilling out before you?"

"No, I'd really prefer an answer," she said as she guided Tudou through a narrow section of the path where it formed a narrow bridge going over two large, flat rocks.

Tudou set his feet with the ease of a mountain goat, keeping a grip up, then down the rock. On the other side, she waited for him, watching as Shuai elegantly picked his way down. When he saw the expectant look on Pia's face, Buzhi relented.

"Fine, fine. We're going east, skirting the edge of Siji on our way to Guihai."

His attention drifted as he pulled a waterskin from his saddle pack, pulling the cork to take a long swig.

Pia shifted backward in her seat as Tudou stepped over another rock in the path. Guihai! Anticipation sparked within her, setting her mind alive. Ruwe had supplied her with many recorded histories of the lands, telling her, "An understanding of the past shows the flow of the future." At first, she'd found them boring—shifting borderlines, people of power that rose and fell, famines, droughts, warring gods that split the earth. Until she'd discovered Guihai and its impressive history.

Guihai, once the 'Rising Tide' empire, now commonly known as the 'Ghost Sea,' the land of restless spirits. Even the name caused a shudder to run up her spine.

It'd been hard for her to imagine, based on the current maps, but Guihai once dominated the majority of the lands, extending far in all directions. At one time, Liyang, Baisha, and Chean were only small nations on the outskirts of the vast edges of Guihai.

Despite the wide-stretching claim that Guihai held, very few threatened to attack their holdings. Guihai operated under the command of a sole Warlord, to whom all tribesmen answered his call. The reason that none had dared to foolishly invade was due to Guihai's greatest weapon: the Guimu. Comprised of hundreds of thousands of nomadic warriors, the Guimu were unequivocally loyal, hostilely protective, and deeply proud. The Guimu were legends across the lands! Liyang, Baisha, and Chean knew firsthand how impenetrable those nomadic herdsmen were, how unyielding and bloodthirsty the tribesmen were at war.

Pia played with Tudou's mane as she tried to visualize what the Guimu would've looked like. Bands of horsemen galloping the open plains, would they have been fair like the Cheans or darkly tanned like the Liyang? The recordings sadly lacked physical descriptions of the people, spending more time on their prowess as warriors. How she wished she could've seen them! The more she'd learned, the more Pia had wanted to pass through time, to see them with her own eyes.

Guihai, the 'Ghost Sea,' gained its sorrowful name over time. Time eroded what man couldn't readily replace: the living. Liyang, Chean, and Baisha learned to collaborate to suit their own needs. Chipping away year after year, the Guimu that died in skirmishes, wars, and stealth attacks began to outnumber the living and slowly ceded more and more land to the invaders.

"I've always wanted to see Guihai. I've read every book about Guihai's nomadic tribesmen I could get my hands on," she admitted aloud.

Looking over at her riding partner, she watched Buzhi drink from his water skin again. He remained quiet, staring ahead. Her fingers went to her neck, absently fiddling with the token that hung there. It was an unconscious soothing gesture. Just remembering the fate of the Guimu pained her. She let out a sigh, sagging into her saddle a little deeper, and her thoughts turned slightly dark.

"I've heard that their land still wails its sorrows to the heavens…" she trailed off, brow pinching in thought.

According to the books she'd studied, each Guimu was trained in a 'secret art.' Pia had found it incredibly frustrating to read 'secret arts' repeatedly through the text, but as she read on, it became clear that 'secret' meant 'lost forever.'

Lost because like a demon on a bleating lamb, Liyang, Baisha, and Chean fell on the vulnerable Guihai. Hacking and advancing, stealing territory and men, people and resources, the Guimu grew lesser as the other three nations grew bolder. Year after year, Guihai's border shrank, and their numbers fell. The Guimu dwindled from hundreds of thousands to just over ten thousand. Survivors were forced to band together with other tribe survivors, forming towns and villages and hunkering together for protection. Many were too old, young, sick, or injured to do little more than survive together. The few Guimu that persisted in their wandering lifestyle grew warier, sticking close to their newly established villages and towns.

In the last war, it was written that all of the remaining Guimu had been wiped out—including the current Warlord and his family, leaving no heirs behind. Only the few who had settled into villages and towns survived. In the valleys of Guihai, where many of the battles took place, people still swear that spirits wail their laments and sorrows, a haunting sound that pierces the heart with a cold that no heat can thaw.

By the end of that war, Guihai's border shrank to one-fifth of its previous size, pushed to the far east. Peace terms arrived eight years after the start of the war, and the then-defeated and dispirited people of Guihai agreed to elect a King, ending Guihai's historical Warlord dominance. The 'secret' skills of the Guihai were lost, as were many of the records indicating what 'skills' were so 'secret.'

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"It's not as lovely as it once was, that's for certain. Haunting is probably the correct word," Buzhi said bitterly, interrupting Pia's deep thoughts. "So much life was wasted there. What little is left is like looking at the beauty of a fire and trying to recall how beautiful that husk of wood was once in full bloom."

The pain and bitterness in his voice drew her eyes to him. His tone expressed her emotions. Yet, he avoided her eyes, instead gesturing ahead of them, where the path flattened, turning grassy and soft once more.

"Let's push the pace again," he said, cuing Shaui into a run without waiting for her reply.

Tudou was happy to run, and Pia let go of her thoughts, focusing on the wind in her hair and the scent of the forest in the air. The scent of spring Lemonbells was on the air, a tangy, citrus smell that intermingled with the sweetness of wild Cherry blossoms, brightening the melancholic mood that had settled over them.

The two alternated between running and walking, covering up ground easily with their fit horses. It was exhilarating to be back in the saddle, out in the real world once more. The landscape was relatively the same as they headed east. Rocks, ferns, pine trees, and Liuli trees intermixed along the sides of the paths, some sections having dense grass and bushes, others turning to vivid green shoots of flowers popping through browned leaves.

Buzi turned right onto the sharply curved path at the next fork in the road. It wound tightly in a snake pattern before smoothing out into a soft dirt road. Rising high above their heads, forming a natural arch above them, stood tall Liulu trees—massive white tree trunks that shed long strips of pale bark, low-hanging strips of branches that held crystalline leaves, iridescent and glimmering in a variety of colors.

Amazed, Pia reached up to touch the soft branches as they passed through them. The leaves slid over her hand, soft and shivery, delicate as a butterfly on her skin. Part of her yearned to cut a branch to keep, but it'd be futile. Their vibrancy only remained when connected to the massive life force within the tree.

"There's a rest area up ahead. We can sleep there for the night," Buzhi told her, pulling her attention from the trees to him. He stretched on Shuai's back, giving Pia an appraising look. It was clear his mood had lifted. Buzhi's brow was clear and free of lines, and his lips curled upward once more.

He said nothing, and they rode to the lodging house in companionable silence.

Inside the lodging house, Pia dismounted and looked around the surprisingly lovely house, which was set out in the middle of nowhere.

"Can we afford a lodging house?" Pia asked him, holding Tudou's head against her chest and rubbing his ears. Thinking about earlier, she added, "Properly, I mean."

"Everything I do is proper, on a situational basis. But, yes, I know the owner quite well. He'll give us a discount, no need to worry."

The lodging house was set off the path, surrounded by a large bamboo fence. Fresh bamboo grew wildly outside, spritely green fan leaves brushing the top of the fence. The house itself was a cozy, two-floor building, wide and lean.

The first floor had a kitchen, a sitting room, and a dining area. Up top, multiple closing compartments spoke to resting rooms for rent. The scent of smoke and cooking filled the air, making her stomach rumble. Patting it, her eyes scanned the area around the house; Pia saw a small stable set back behind the house.

"Lovely, I smell tea," Buzhi said, stretching his arms up over his head with an exaggerated groan.

"Shall I take Shuai?" Pia offered, holding out her hand.

It wasn't necessary that she do so, but it'd give her an excuse to linger in the stable.

"I suppose you're worthy to groom my valiant steed," he teased, tossing her his reins. Leaning in, he whispered, "Don't forget to—"

"—ward the tack?" she whispered back with a grin.

Buzhi's hand squeezed her shoulder.

"It's like having a mini-Ruwe with me," he grumbled, giving her a wink, then turned about and strode into the kitchen.

Unable to keep the grin off her face, Pia left for the stable, leaving him to do the paying. Shuai gave her a side-eye as if he thought about chancing a nibble, but he dropped his head with a sigh when she patted his cheek warningly.

Halfway to the stable, Pia stopped in her tracks, sensing a rush of yi in the air. From the lodging house, the sound of splintering, exploding wood boomed through the quiet yard. She spun, dropping the reins, hand falling to her sword.

Buzhi flew backward, feet skipping lightly on the air. His hand was out in front of him, one hand tucked behind his back. Was he laughing? Pia wondered as she tried to make sense of the scene.

From the kitchen came a man in hot pursuit, his glowing green sword slashing down at Buzhi. With another laugh, he flipped away, putting space between the two.

Pia stilled, watching as the two traded blows. Buzhi had no weapon, relying solely on spiritual attacks. The speed with which he pulled on yi astounded her, causing her jaw to drop open in amazement. Buzhi's hands and feet moved swiftly, maintaining an offense, a strike of wind here, a burst of fluttering leaves, a defensive block.

The strange man's sword sliced through space so smoothly and quickly that it appeared as a green blur.

"I told you not to come back!" the new man hissed with irritation as Buzhi once more ducked and flipped to avoid a slice.

"You'd miss me terribly, darling," Buzhi said with a grin from behind the man.

His face went comically wide as he barely avoided the arcing blade aiming for his neck. He dropped backward, kicking his feet against the dirt as the man continued after him.

"That's not very friendly!"

"It wasn't meant to be," the man hissed.

Pia took a step forward, watching as the man advanced after Buzhi, who was still scrambling away. The sheath slid from her sword quietly, and her hand tightened around the smooth wooden grip.

In a flash, Buzhi corrected his balance and landed flat on his feet in a robe-billowing spin. A long stretch of rope draped from his hand. Pia's eyebrows rose. The Threaded Dagger was not a standard weapon for martial artists. A long, wickedly sharp, double-headed blade rested at the end of the rope, glinting in the late-day sun.

The other man laughed darkly and asked, "Getting serious now?"

She was stunned when Buzhi laughed in what seemed like delight as the other man gripped his sword in two hands and began a new assault.

"Too slow," Buzhi said gleefully as the rope launched, twining sinuously through the air.

Pia was amazed at how effortlessly the Threaded Dagger spun. Only once had she tried the weapon, nearly slicing her leg in the process.

Yet, Buzhi swayed and dipped, legs and arms agile as he wound the rope around his body, slashing it at the attacker. The Threaded Dagger was used with a master's touch, never stopping, always fluidly in motion.

The attacker was so swift that Pia struggled to keep up with his movements. Skillfully, he evaded each rotation of the rope, feet as light on the air as Buzhi's.

She could only stand there, mouth agape, watching the two men move at top speeds, effortlessly dodging and attacking the other. It felt more like a dance than an assault, as neither managed to land a blow on the other.

With green robes flowing around him, Buzhi slacked the rope, sliding the lengths deftly through his hands. As it glided towards him, he snapped it hard, changing the direction and shooting the blade directly towards the other man.

As the blade arced towards the man, he spun evasively, and Buzhi flicked the rope again, changing the rotation of the blade. The man tried to correct his move, but it was too late, and the blade slid around him, piercing the ground behind him. Grinning cheekily, Buzhi shook loose the rope from his grip with a hard shake, and it snaked out, curling around the man's body.

"Like a fish on a stick," Buzhi crowed.

"This is a child's trick!" the man snapped, struggling against the ropes. His unintentional rhyme had Buzhi cackling, further angering the man.

From the side, she watched as he brought fire yi to his palms, two red-hot orbs that began to grow up his arms. Before it reached the rope, Buzhi recalled the Needle Thread, and the blade pulled from the ground and hurtled toward him, the long rope unraveling from the man as it went.

Slow clapping startled Pia, and she turned her attention to the direction of the sound.

Another man leaned in the kitchen doorway. He was dressed in dark robes and held a black sword propped between his folded arms, resting against his shoulder.

"Nice fight, but do you always have to break my things when you visit?" he complained.

"It was Zhe Mian," Buzhi whined as his weapon curled around his arm, hiding inside his sleeve once more. "He didn't even let me get a cup of tea first."

The man, Zhe Mian, released his fire with a huff. His sword hung low by his side, a subtle threat. Slowly the aggression in the air settled and a calmness fell over the yard. A hanging wooden wind chime stirred in the breeze, sending a calm tone through the air.

"I told you not to come back. You never listen!" Zhe Mian snapped, evidently not willing to let it go.

"I'm here on business this time. With our newest Wraith, Pia," Buzhi said excitedly, pointing his hand at Pia, who stared dumbly back at him, sword still clutched in her hand. When they gave him a dubious look, he added, "Ruwe's disciple."

Feeling the weight of all the eyes on her, she sheathed her sword and awkwardly gave them a hand bow in respect.

"Our?" she asked, looking at Buzhi, feeling intimidated under those heavy stares.

Behind her, Tudou butted his nose against her shoulder, and it bolstered her courage.

"Oh, my manners. These two are also Wraiths. Yes, this is Zhe Mian," Buzhi said, gesturing to the man with the green sword. This is "La—"

"I'm Lan Tiao," the man said, shooting a look at Buzhi. The two locked eyes for a long moment, and Buzhi tore his gaze away with an awkward laugh.

"This is the Quiet Hearth, Lan Tiao's home that he kindly rents out for weary travelers and friends," Buzhi said, returning to Pia.

The look that Lan Tiao gave Buzhi made Pia believe that wasn't true. Seconds later, he confirmed it.

"I don't recall offering those terms," Lan Tiao said dryly.

"What are you doing here with her?" Zhe Mian cut in. He scowled fiercely at Buzhi, not sparing a glance at Pia.

She shifted in her place, hand reaching for Tudou's face as the atmosphere once more froze over.

"Business, as I mentioned," said Buzhi, the first strain of impatience sneaking into his voice.

Pia looked from face to face, watching the interaction with worry. Although the initial attack seemed over, the tension was heavy.

"There's fresh feed, hay, and water in the stable," Lan Tiao called out to her. "Why don't you care for the horses while we chat with our friend?"

She hesitated, watching Buzhi stand there. The skill of their fight told her she was not a match for either, maybe even a hindrance in a fight. Still, the idea of leaving him outnumbered settled sourly in her gut.

Buzhi's eyes slid to her, and his smile was reassuring.

"Go on. It'll all be fine. Come find us when you've finished."

Turning, she gathered the horse's reins and walked away, checking over her shoulder as she went, seeing all three still standing where they'd been.

She took her time in the stable, untacking each horse, grooming them until their coats gleamed, and checking them over for scrapes or injuries. She peeked out into the yard after placing them in the stalls and topping off their food and water. The three men had disappeared. Only faint remnants of splintered wood showed the fight had happened.

Not wanting to return just yet, Pia cleaned each bridle and saddle, inspected the leather for wear and tear, and drew a series of protection runes across each. When she could delay no longer, she shouldered their packs and headed for the lodging house.