Outsider

Old Wu got up the next morning and slowly crawled out of bed. He dressed, then walked over to his wine jars. Several jars stood against the wall in the corner of the dim room, all filled with his treasures. Their intoxicating fragrance made him want to take a few sips at once. Of course, the Pandaren's unique self-control reminded him that he was still injured, and drinking would do his wounds no good. He considered it carefully.

"I'm just going to smell it." As he spoke, he brought the ladle to his nose, then drank it down in one swift motion before anyone could react. Afterward, he guiltily looked around, terrified that someone might have witnessed it all.

Passing the stone fireplace built into the wall across the room, Old Wu reached for the broom he usually used to clean the temple. The familiar coldness of its handle felt comforting in his hand.

He had not brought a weapon when he entered Red Candle Forest last time. He would not make the same mistake again. Still, he hoped he would not need it. Tucking the broom beneath his arm, he quietly pushed open the door. It was still dark outside, and he did his best to open it silently so as not to wake anyone else.

When Old Wu reached the exit, he prepared to shove open the heavy gate, only to let out a pained grunt. The wound on his back still hurt. Opening the thick gate was simply too difficult for him.

"Can you tell me what you're doing?" a suspicious voice asked from behind and to his left. Old Wu panted as he removed his hands from the gate and turned toward the person who had discovered him. It was not Shang Long, but the most