The frustration of failure had also calmed Lin Feiyu down, and he admired Uncle Hai even more. When it came to something outside his own field of expertise, he really had to listen to the professionals.
"Uncle Hai, how is Zhao Yi?" Zhao Qian asked worriedly. After all, Zhao Yi was her cousin. She didn't want the Zhao Family to have another coffin.
Uncle Hai reached out, wanting to perform a divination, but I stopped him and said, "Qian, don't worry. Zhao Yi is shouting away—he's not very brave. At most, the lightning struck beside his feet and scared him senseless. If it had really struck him, he'd be long dead. How could he still be making a sound?"
"Mm. What Brother Xia said must be right. We should hurry up," Lin Feiyu chimed in. He knew that saving Uncle Hai's strength was the most important thing now.
Her momentary panic had nearly made Uncle Hai's burden even heavier. Zhao Qian was sharp as ice and snow, and she understood at once, guilt flooding her heart.
But seeing that our group still had to continue forward, she didn't say anything more.
When we were close to the mountaintop, Uncle Hai stopped us. He took out his Eight-Trigram Tortoise and a paper effigy, formed several hand seals, and had each of us hand over a strand of hair. He tied the paper effigy and the Eight-Trigram Tortoise together, then released the tortoise.
The Eight-Trigram Tortoise poked out its head and looked back at Uncle Hai with almost humanlike emotion. Then it struggled up another path toward the mountaintop. We were all curious, but Uncle Hai merely waved at us with red-rimmed eyes, urging us to hurry.
"Brother Hai! That's your life-bound tortoise! You raised it and ate and drank with it