Gods Sing, Ghosts Chant, Aiding the Hero's Song - Cold Moon, Fading Song: Almost Forgetting the Separate Paths of Life and Death

Compared with the earlier flute music, faint as a drifting thread, this mournful recitation, though voiced by an old man, still carried strongly from afar. Yet even with its greater volume, a lonely indignation spilled through every word. Against the lightless black curtain of night over the wilderness, it made Xing Yan feel as though chill winds were whistling and ghostly dread hung thick around him.

Beside him, Qiong Rong and Xueyi clutched his hands tightly. However formidable their skills, however fearless they had been before, at this moment their girlish nature finally showed itself. They pressed close to Xing Yan on either side, trembling in heart and limb, not daring to move!

Xing Yan's own heart had been beating a nervous tattoo, but when he felt the two soft bodies trembling urgently beside him, he finally came to his senses. He remembered that he was the leader of the three, and this was no time for him to be afraid. Calming his mind, he focused his eyes and looked toward the place from which the recitation had come.

By now, he had gradually grown accustomed to the surrounding darkness. Peering ahead, he saw a pine tree spreading like a canopy roughly a hundred paces to their left. Beneath it, a faint human silhouette sat on a rock, leaning sideways against the trunk.

The sight of someone there eased Xing Yan's fear. He coughed to bolster his courage a little and prepared to call out.

Just then, a flame suddenly lit beneath the pine, and an aged, steady voice drifted to them on the wind:

"The long night is not yet spent, and travelers' paths are lonely. Why not rest awhile from the dust of your journey, honored guests, and come converse with this old man?"

Hearing those coherent words