Zhang Xiao left, utterly lost.
He did not even know how he had returned to Dragon-Tiger Mountain. The mountain, always secluded and quiet, now seemed as silent as death.
Occasionally, he encountered other Daoists on the ancient paths through the woods. Their eyes were red, and they looked just as lost as he did.
None of them looked very old. Even the oldest were barely in their twenties, and some carried younger children.
Those twelve- or thirteen-year-olds had clearly cried themselves out. They lay against their senior brothers' backs, sobbing softly.
A few of the stronger-willed ones stopped when they saw Zhang Xiao, nodded mournfully, and greeted him in low voices: "Young Celestial Master."
Only then did that unfamiliar form of address jolt Zhang Xiao out of his daze.
It took him a long while to understand. Zhang Chengdao was gone. As the Little Celestial Master whom everyone on Dragon-Tiger Mountain had long acknowledged, he was naturally the Young Celestial Master now.
Right... Dad was gone...
At that thought, the grief and emptiness surged up again. Of the more than forty thousand disciples of the Daoist Order on Dragon-Tiger Mountain, only a few thousand remained.
Zhang Xiao raised his head. The Light Curtain overhead was steadier than ever. Night had fallen, and brilliant stars filled the sky, dazzlingly bright.
The stars really seemed to twinkle, as though the elders who had just ascended to immortality were watching him from above, watching over the younger generation.
He continued along the mountain path, and a black tiger silently came to walk beside him.
Zhang Xiao looked up and forced an ugly smile at Black Tiger, his slightly swollen, reddened eyes filled with exhaustion.
"Mountain Lord."
The great black tiger nuzzled Zhang Xiao with his wet nose, just as he had once nuzzled