A burden

Dusk closed in on all sides, and the mountain wind swept dry leaves into eddies around the three travelers' feet.

As night descended, a blue-green hawk circled high overhead, its keen eyes scanning the wilderness below, keeping watch over their surroundings.

Zhang Xuan's scarlet cloak snapped in the wind. He pressed a hand against his aching chest; every breath felt like the cut of a dull knife, the stabbing pain almost unbearable. His steps were unsteady, each one like treading on cotton. Behind him, the boy staggered even worse, as though he might collapse at any moment. Monk glanced over them both and understood—they had reached their limits.

Zhang Xuan's condition needed no explanation. Those two blasts of Palm Thunder yesterday had almost wrung him dry of vitality and spirit.

As for the boy, the mother who had been his sole companion in life had died horribly, and the villagers of Zhao Village had mobbed him. The wound Zhao Wu's pipe had left on his head was already beginning to fester. Without prompt treatment, his life might be in danger.

"There's a sheltered hollow up ahead." Monk pointed toward a barely visible rock face in the distance. "We'll rest there tonight."

At that, the boy immediately quickened his pace. His ragged clothes fluttered in the wind, exposing the hideous lash marks across his back. Old wounds crossed fresh ones, like a twisted spiderweb.

About the time it took to drink a cup of tea later, the three finally reached the hollow. Monk chose a large tree that could shelter them from wind and rain, its trunk thick as an iron pillar and its dense branches spreading like a canopy. He motioned for them to rest there.

"Please rest, my lords. I'll gather some firewood and see if I can catch something to fill our bellies." The boy's voice was hoarse and weak, yet carried a stubborn resolve.

Monk frowned. This child was pushing himself far too recklessly. In his current condition, how could he possibly do any work...

But before he could speak, Zhang Xuan said, "Be quick about it."

"Yes, my lord." The boy grinned, trying to look at ease. Yet the blood and grime covering his face made his smile look especially wretched.

The boy turned away, his retreating figure looking painfully frail in the dusk. Monk watched him go, then turned to Zhang Xuan with a trace of bewilderment in his eyes.

Zhang Xuan leaned on his longsword, its tip planted against the ground, and gasped for breath. As though sensing Monk's gaze, he chuckled. "The kid doesn't want to be a burden, so I'm letting him have his way. What's wrong with that?"

Monk shook his head gently, his voice low and warm. "I wasn't blaming you, my lord."

Zhang Xuan raised an eyebrow. "There's no one else here. What's with the 'my lord'?"

Monk did not answer. He simply took Zhang Xuan's sword and helped him sit against the tree. Zhang Xuan's body trembled slightly; he had clearly reached his limit. Monk took a celadon bottle from inside his robes, tipped out a medicinal pill, and offered it to him.

Taking the porcelain bottle, Zhang Xuan arched an eyebrow and complained in mock reproach, "Well, well, monk! You had the good stuff all along, and only now do you bring it out!"

Monk set down the large cloth bundle he had been carrying on his back and began rummaging through it as he explained, "It replenishes blood and vitality, but it also sends you into a deep sleep. We had to travel during the day, so I didn't bring it out."

"A sleeping pill?" Zhang Xuan looked doubtful. "Take it and fall asleep? Does it really work that well?"

Monk offered no explanation, only a smile. "You can try it, my lord."

"I doubt this thing will do much for me. What matters most in a person? Willpower. So long as your will is firm, the effects of a mere sleeping pill can't possibly shake my iron-and-steel resolve..." As he spoke, Zhang Xuan swallowed the pale blue pill in his hand.

He took the gourd Monk offered and drank some water. A warmth spread through his abdomen after the pill went down, and Zhang Xuan shrugged with a smile. "See? No effect at all."

Monk merely smiled warmly without saying anything more. Then he pulled two dry flatbreads from his bundle and handed them to Zhang Xuan. "Eat these first. I'll find something to start a fire."

"Thanks." Zhang Xuan accepted without ceremony. Though they had not known each other long, after everything that had happened on Phoenix-Cry Mountain, they had become friends who had faced life and death together. There was no need to fuss over empty formalities.

The late-autumn night was bitterly cold, like an invisible blade of ice slicing every inch of exposed skin. Fortunately, Monk had chosen a hollow sheltered from the wind. Otherwise, this would have been a difficult night to endure.

Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, Zhang Xuan took large bites of the dry flatbread, his gaze deep and distant. The events of the past few days flashed before his eyes, one after another, stirring a faint unease in his heart.

This shouldn't be happening. I've clearly been following the Celestial Master's Ordination's guidance, heading west all the way. How has the journey been this difficult? Why have I nearly been invited to tea by the King of Hell time and again?

Right after leaving the Celestial Master's Mansion, he had run into three Chang Ghosts. If he had not met Monk, they would have gnawed him down to a skeleton long ago.

What followed had been even more outrageous: he had encountered a monster like the Headless Corpse Buddha, a harbinger of calamity with almost one foot in the Ghost King Realm.

If he had not learned Palm Thunder by then, or had failed to make proper use of the Celestial Master's Ordination, neither he nor Monk could possibly have survived the Corpse Buddha. Their heads might well have become part of the Headless Corpse Buddha's body by now...

I still have one question left for the Celestial Master's Ordination today. Should I ask about it? he wondered, his fingers unconsciously stroking the Azure Phoenix Jade Pendant at his waist.

While Zhang Xuan was deep in thought, the sound of dry branches snapping came from the distance, followed by the boy's muffled coughing.

Just then, Monk also returned from another direction, carrying a large armful of dry branches.

A moment later, the boy staggered back with a bundle of firewood. Thorns had torn his trouser legs, and several fresh wounds marked his calves. Yet his left hand tightly gripped a plump wild rabbit. A large black-tailed fish was skewered on the sharpened stick he held against his chest along with the firewood, its scales gleaming coldly in the faint moonlight.

"My lords, I've brought firewood and game." The boy's voice trembled slightly, though he tried hard to sound calm.

Zhang Xuan glanced at the rabbit in his hand and the fish skewered on the stick, then said evenly, "Light the fire."

Monk set down his dry branches and took out a firelighter. "I'll do it."

The boy hurriedly put everything down and ran over to Monk. "Master, please let me handle these chores."

Monk glanced at Zhang Xuan. Seeing that he said nothing, he handed the firelighter to the boy.

Delighted, the boy deftly stacked the firewood and lit it with the firelighter. The firelight illuminated his scarred face. In eyes that should have been clear and innocent, only a stubborn gleam remained.

Watching the boy busy himself, Monk suddenly asked softly, "What's your name?"

"My name is Anning, sir. Ji Anning."

Monk looked at the plump rabbit, pierced clean through the heart, and praised him. "Swift, ruthless, and precise. You certainly have a knack for hunting."

Once Ji Anning had the campfire burning, he began skillfully skinning the rabbit and said softly, "I went hunting in the mountains with my father from the time I was little. I know this work well. From now on, you can leave all these chores to me, my lords."

As he spoke, the boy did everything he could to prove his worth.

"Our meeting means fate has brought us together. There's no need to stand on such ceremony, young benefactor. Simply call yourself Anning."

Ji Anning did not agree. He only lowered his head and kept working.

Beside them, Zhang Xuan spoke up. "Listen to Monk."

Ji Anning put down the rabbit in his hands and bowed to Zhang Xuan with his hands clasped. "Yes, my lord."