The moment the Fatty heard the word "nightmare," his face changed. Jiang Cheng, however, nodded. "Being scared to death in your sleep... That's really... rare."
"Have you seen people die that way, young brother?" asked the man dressed like a porter from earlier.
"I've heard of it, but never seen it myself," Jiang Cheng replied.
As the Fatty listened to them go back and forth, he began to sense something strange. These people seemed to be speaking in riddles. What puzzled him most was how little they seemed to care about the dead man on the ground. At least, he couldn't see much grief on their faces.
Were these people... not companions?
The monks covered the corpse with a white cloth, then set out incense and candle stands. There were no meditation cushions, so they simply sat cross-legged on the cold ground and began chanting scriptures to guide the dead.
For some reason, the moment the Fatty heard their chanting, his head began to ache. After Jiang Cheng offered the others a few perfunctory words of comfort, he led the Fatty away.
Once they were outside the courtyard gate, the Fatty hurried over and asked, "Doctor, what were you talking about with those people?"
Jiang Cheng exhaled and slowly turned to look at him. "Do you remember the people we ran into while fleeing last night?"
The Fatty nodded repeatedly. "Of course. There were six or seven of them, I think. You said they were the same group as the people just now, and Lord Guan went after them later."
"That's them. They noticed us, too," Jiang Cheng said. "They were testing us just now. When the old man suddenly mentioned nightmares, your reaction told them they'd guessed right."
Recalling what had just happened, the Fatty knew Jiang Cheng was