Chapter 138 — Decadence

Of these two, old and young, the elder had the air of a Daoist immortal, and the younger was lovely and refined. Behind them stood a middle-aged man carrying all the bundles, whose appearance was bizarre—he stood a full head taller than the other two, yet his face was long like a wild dog's, repulsive at a glance.

Boss He hurried to greet them. After all, the customer with the monkey clearly could not slip away unnoticed; better to attend to the newcomers first. He stepped up with a smile: "Yes, yes—three honored guests, will you be dining or lodging?"

The old man at their head chuckled, squinting with a smile: "What, Boss He, don't you recognize us?"

Boss He was taken aback and studied the old man carefully, but try as he might he could not recall him. Doing business by this old road, he saw so many passersby—how could he remember them all? He could only shake his head in embarrassment: "Forgive me, honored guest. I am getting on in years, and my memory is not what it was."

A look of pity crossed the old man's face. He shook his head and sighed: "Alas, what a pity, what a pity. Most mortals in this world are like that—immortal destiny lies before them, yet they have no discerning eye to see it."

Boss He was startled and at once felt a measure of awe. He looked the old man over carefully—white beard fluttering, bearing like a crane among men—surely a Daoist of high attainment. Though he could not understand why such a master should look like a street fortune-teller, and though the girl beside the old man wore an expression of considerable disapproval, he reasoned that a master's ways were naturally beyond the comprehension of ordinary folk like himself. If he could comprehend them, would he not be a master himself?

At that thought, a measure of respect had already crept onto Boss He's face. He said reverently, "Yes, yes—honored guest... no, Master, please come inside."

The old man assented, and with the "Immortal Points the Way" pole in hand he swaggered in first. The girl behind him shook her head with a bitter smile and turned to the man carrying the bundles:

"Daoist Wild Dog, let us go in and rest a while too."

The man grunted in reply and followed them in. The three sat down at a table, and the dog-faced man set the bundles down on the chair beside him with a "thump"—they seemed to carry no small weight.

These three were, of course, Zhou Yixuan and his granddaughter Xiaowan—and as for the dog-faced man, he was Daoist Wild Wolf, the last survivor of the Blood Refining Hall lineage. Ever since the battle at the Dead Marsh had ended, Daoist Wild Wolf had followed Zhou Yixuan and Xiaowan, wandering the world and making his home wherever he went.

At first, Zhou Yixuan had found the wild dog utterly unbearable, picking fault with him every other day and tossing out sarcasm at every turn. But Daoist Wild Wolf, for some reason—as if he had turned over a new leaf and become a new man—seemed not to hear a word of it and kept following along. Xiaowan, kind-hearted, could not stand it and often spoke up in his defense.

Young as she was, her tongue was sharp as a needle, and though Zhou Yixuan was an old hand in the jianghu, he was often left speechless, until at last he had no choice but to accept the situation. Fortunately, as time passed he gradually discovered that the wild dog was not entirely without merit. For instance, the heavy bundles he used to carry himself could now all be thrown to this "coolie"—and the "coolie," under Xiaowan's slightly apologetic gaze, showed not the least resentment, but rather seemed quite pleased.

As for other benefits—encountering wild beasts on the road, meeting ghosts, running into bandits in the mountains, and so on and so forth—naturally this wild-dog "hero" was dispatched to settle them all single-handedly. Along the way, Zhou Yixuan felt utterly at ease. He had roamed the far corners of the world all his life, yet never had he traveled as comfortably as in these past few months. His only regret was that he had not met this fellow Wild Dog sooner.

In this period, the three of them had revisited old haunts—wanderers as they were, they could go anywhere—and as they walked, they found themselves back on this old road. Thanks to Zhou Yixuan's ghostlike memory, he even remembered a certain Boss He who ran a little shop by the roadside, and immediately put on the airs of a master, reducing Boss He to a bundle of nerves.

Seeing how deferential Boss He was toward him, Zhou Yixuan was immensely pleased with himself. With great swagger he ordered a few dishes, and only when Boss He had hurried off to prepare them did he turn back, about to boast to Xiaowan and the Wild Wolf Daoist—when he suddenly saw that their faces had somehow taken on expressions of disbelief, their gazes fixed and staring.

Zhou Yixuan asked in puzzlement, "Hey, what's wrong with you two?"

The Wild Wolf Daoist raised an arm that seemed to have grown strangely heavy, and pointed toward the depths of the little shop. "See for yourself."

Zhou Yixuan glared at him, then turned to look—and suddenly his whole body gave a jolt as well.

There, in the last rays of the setting sun, the final thread of light falling through the window, in that dim corner deep within the shop, lay the figure of a man—and on the table, amid the shadows, a three-eyed monkey was gazing toward them.

Xiaowan was stunned, and gave a low cry:

"Little Gray?"