Lost Contact

"Wah, eggs, don't bili bili, eggs, don't sawayeli..."

After practicing the Kunpeng Combat Technique, Zhang Xuezhou felt dizzy. He lay down in the training room and fell fast asleep.

When he woke, he was lying under a wooden bed in a side room of a wooden temple.

Zhang Xuezhou had slept in plenty of places over the past two years, so being stuffed under a bed was nothing unusual.

He rolled over several times and crawled out from under the rather low wooden bed.

Outside the side room, the monks were chanting in strange tones. Their voices rose with fervor, sorrow, resolve and release.

All manner of emotions mingled in their chanting, utterly unlike the words the monks had recited over the burning corpse the night before.

Zhang Xuezhou brushed the dust off his monk's robe and pushed open the door, only to be met by four gazes sweeping toward him.

"Good morning, everyone!"

Looking at the four pairs of eyes, all tinged with emotions he couldn't quite place, Zhang Xuezhou felt a little uneasy. He glanced around and raised a hand in greeting.

"You're still in the room? Just who are you people?"

The Buddha's Son stared at Zhang Xuezhou for several seconds before switching from the language he had been chanting in to ask the question.

"Who are we? We..."

Zhang Xuezhou looked down at the monk's robe he was wearing, then at the monks.

The Buddha's Son wore a solemn expression, and his monk's robe was spotless. He looked gentle and refined.

Compared with the Buddha's Son he had seen by the light of the campfire the night before, the one he saw in daylight was clearly much easier to make out. Zhang Xuezhou felt that every gesture he made had gained a touch more grace.

But