Cloud and mist drifted thickly; grasses and trees grew lush.
On Hanging Peak, a spirited young man listened as a lame Daoist told stories from atop a stone platform.
Suddenly, the young man looked astonished.
"That's it?"
"Of course that's it. Don't you already know what happened afterward?" The lame Daoist lounged against the stone platform, hugging his crutch, one leg dangling as he grinned. "Once our Little Martial Uncle entered the Divine Treasury Portal, a gust of wind blew us three years into the future. Who would have dared stay where we were?"
"But that was twelve years ago! After you left, didn't the sect send wave after wave of people to Luoyang to investigate? And they found nothing?"
"They found things, of course they did." The lame Daoist tugged at his beard. "Li Tang treated every one of them as an honored guest, giving them people and money whenever they asked. Forget investigating the Mansion of a duke from the previous dynasty; they could even inspect the emperor's traveling palace. With conditions like that, how could they fail to uncover anything?"
"Then why did you say there was nothing after that?"
The scruffy Daoist said, "They did find plenty of clues, but none had much to do with our Little Martial Uncle. They led to quite a few legendary tales instead, though I doubt you're interested in those."
"I'm not." The young man frowned. "But so many people have gone to investigate over these twelve years. I heard even Eldest Martial Uncle went, yet none of them found the slightest trace. Isn't that too strange?"
"How would this poor Daoist know?" the scruffy Daoist said with perfect assurance. "I wasn't the one who went."
The young man was briefly lost for words, then changed tack. "Could Li Tang