Chapter 95 — Night Talk

The three of them fell silent for a moment. In the end it was Zeng Shuyan, lively by nature and quick of wit, who sensed the awkwardness between Lin Jinghong and Facheng and spoke first with a smile: "Junior Brother Lin, how did you get here?"

Though Lin Jinghong was not well acquainted with Zeng Shuyan, seeing a fellow disciple in such a foreign place bred a certain closeness; and knowing in his heart that Zeng Shuyan had once been close to Zhang Qingyue, he felt, he knew not why, a measure of goodwill toward him. He nodded. "Just now I was separated from my senior brothers in the miasma. I charged straight ahead, and to my surprise broke through, landing not far from here. I happened to see a flash of artifact-light in this direction, so I came to look."

Zeng Shuyan gave a chuckle and wiped the rain from his face with a hand. "Seems we were fated to meet. In a place this dangerous, the more people the better, wouldn't you say, Senior Brother Facheng?"

Facheng smiled faintly and nodded. "Indeed... hmm, has the rain stopped?"

Zeng Shuyan and Lin Jinghong started. They raised their heads and looked at the sky, and sure enough, at some unknown moment the rain that had been falling without pause had begun to thin. The sky was lightening now, and even the heavens seemed to have opened up somewhat.

Lin Jinghong drew a deep breath. The air in the forest after the rain was impossibly fresh, as if carrying a faint sweetness that seeped into the heart.

Facheng turned to look at the strange flower, now fully closed. "This place is full of strangeness, and that flower is no benevolent thing. We cannot linger. Let us leave here first."

Lin Jinghong said nothing. Zeng Shuyan smiled. "Senior Brother Facheng is right. Let us go."

With that, he turned to glance at Lin Jinghong, who nodded silently.

The three of them composed themselves and rose into the air on their artifacts.

Hovering in midair, Zeng Shuyan pondered a moment, then called out to the other two: "Senior Brother Facheng, Junior Brother Lin, this forest is astonishingly vast, and the poisonous insects and strange beasts and all manner of vicious things are beyond counting. I fear that legendary treasure lies deep within these woods. What should we do next?"

Lin Jinghong said with vigor, "Senior Brother Zeng, nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Zeng Shuyan glanced at him, then turned to Facheng, who smiled and pressed his palms together, plainly raising no objection. Zeng Shuyan laughed. "So be it. Then let us properly probe this wild, wicked land and see what treasure has emerged into the world."

The three of them were roused to spirit. They urged their artifacts on, becoming three streaks of light that flew deeper into the forest.

Night gradually descended, and the sky had gone completely dark.

Lin Jinghong and the others had searched for half a day and found nothing; of the rumored treasure there was not even a shadow. That alone would have been bearable, but this strange forest was home to all manner of monsters and poisonous insects, and they had truly seen their share—some so bizarre that even while they flew aloft past a great tree, a withered branch on it would suddenly transform into a gray venomous insect and lunge at them, jaws agape.

And so it went, one after another. The three of them, relying on their considerable cultivation—each an outstanding talent of his own sect—had mostly come through with frights but no true harm. Still, they could not help but be secretly alarmed.

Now, seeing the night deepen, they conferred briefly and happened upon a large flat rock in the forest that looked level enough, so they landed on it to rest.

Zeng Shuyan cautiously stepped to one side, concentrating his guard while sending his artifact, the Xuanyuan Sword, hovering aloft; by its faint light he kept careful watch, and after picking and choosing, he gathered some relatively dry dead branches and brought them back to build a fire.

Lin Jinghong watched and watched, and suddenly could not suppress a bitter laugh. Zeng Shuyan heard it, and their eyes met; understanding his mind, Zeng Shuyan could not help but laugh aloud as well.

In the two thousand years since the Canglan Sect was founded, if one were to name the most meticulous, the most cautious and careful gatherer of firewood, it would surely be Zeng Shuyan of this day.

Turning back, Zeng Shuyan took a tinderbox from his robes. But the day's heavy rain had dampened the wood nearby, and it took him a long while, with much thick smoke, before he got the fire lit.

Facheng glanced around. The forest stretched away in heavy blackness. He pondered a moment, then signaled to Lin Jinghong and Zeng Shuyan to sit closer together. Then he drew a deep breath and slowly chanted an incantation, and his artifact, the Reincarnation Pearl, rose slowly from his hand. Moments later a soft golden light flickered and spread outward, forming a golden ring six chi across that enclosed the three of them.

In the night, their three faces were tinged faint gold by the Reincarnation Pearl's soft radiance. Lin Jinghong and Zeng Shuyan were both of renowned lineage and could read Facheng's art clearly. Though Lin Jinghong harbored a private grudge against him, he and Zeng Shuyan alike could not help but show astonishment and admiration.

Zeng Shuyan smiled. "Senior Brother Facheng, your cultivation is formidable. I am in awe."

Facheng smiled faintly. "There are far too many poisonous insects here. The light of this little fire would hardly be enough to keep them off. With this 'Prajna Heart Circle,' we need not worry tonight about ordinary venomous things."

Having spoken, he smiled faintly at the two of them, his gaze drifting, whether by design or not, toward Lin Jinghong. Lin Jinghong met his eyes, then slowly lowered his head and said nothing. Facheng slowly drew his gaze back to the small fire between them; the firelight was mirrored in his eyes, and who could say what he was thinking?

The mood in that place gradually quieted. None of the three spoke again. Then, in the deep night and heavy dark all around, a wind suddenly rose.

The sound of that wind was like sobbing—like a heartbroken woman of ages past weeping alone, drifting lightly through the trees, skimming the treetops, brushing past the leaves and branches.

The whole dark forest, in that pitch-black late night, suddenly seemed to have taken on life, opening its breast and letting its offspring stir and sing freely upon its boundless heart.

The night grew deeper; the wind passed over the treetops.

The firelight wavered.

Facheng sat in meditation with eyes closed. Zeng Shuyan, seemingly tired as well, lay down fully clothed beside the fire and appeared to be asleep. Only Lin Jinghong still sat on the other side of the fire, not the least bit drowsy, his gaze bright as he stared fixedly at the burning flames.

Slowly he reached out, took up a dead branch, snapped it in two with a crack, and gently fed it to the fire.

The flames slowly consumed the branch and seemed to burn a little brighter. Lin Jinghong felt something and glanced aside; Facheng had opened his eyes at some point and was watching him silently.

"Junior Brother Lin." As if mindful of the sleeping Zeng Shuyan, Facheng deliberately lowered his voice. "Why are you still not resting?"

Lin Jinghong withdrew his gaze and looked again at the fire before him. After a while he said mildly, "And you, Master—are you not also awake?"

Facheng said, "This monk has always rested in meditation; it has become a habit. But you, Junior Brother Lin, are still young, and ought to rest more."

Lin Jinghong was silent. After a long moment he said suddenly, "For these ten years, I have rarely slept."

Facheng frowned, puzzled. "Why?"