Chapter 136
"I'll be back, Uncle. I just wanted to check the surroundings," Ji Wuye spoke abruptly.
The grizzled coachman turned his weathered face towards him, giving a faint nod, the flickering campfire casting dancing shadows across his creased features.
"Be careful, Young Hero. The night is as quiet as a cat treading softly," the coachman cautioned, his deep-set eyes conveying a wordless warning as their gazes met briefly.
His well-worn hanfu rippled in the warm firelight, obscuring his expression momentarily, but Ji Wuye clearly understood the coachman's tacit caution.
With a slight cupping of his hands, Ji Wuye vanished from the spot in a blur, leaving no trace. The coachman resumed his task, prodding the crackling flames with a long stick as he roasted what appeared to be rice over the glowing embers, the aromatic scent wafting through the still night air.
Their exchange was witnessed by Song Jia, her delicate brows furrowing in bewilderment.
"Y-You wait! Where are you—" she began, the words catching in her throat as she belatedly processed the coachman's cryptic words, too late to stop Ji Wuye's departure.
Once again she felt annoyed, but could only sigh facing Ji Wuye's cold treatment.
An uneasy silence fell, leaving Song Jia alone beside the dancing flames. Unlike her wariness around Ji Wuye, Song Jia's gaze softened as it settled on the old man, perhaps finding familiarity in his weathered countenance that reminded her of her own Master.
With a soft rustling of silk, she settled into a meditative posture, though a pained groan escaped her lips, belying the discomfort she felt.
"Huff..." she exhaled, drawing the Qi into her body and guiding it along the intricate meridian pathways before storing it in her Lower Dantian.
But…
"It hurts." How could she hope to concentrate while enduring such throbbing aches? The pain was still there, the only slightly bearable aspect being the pain in her hands, which had been alleviated by an herbal paste applied by Ji Wuye.
Meanwhile, the pain in her abdomen felt like a burning, scorching flame, igniting each time she breathed or moved.
Opening her eyes once more, she found the coachman still tending to the sizzling rice, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames, no words passing between them in the heavy silence.
As Song Jia's gaze fell upon the coachman's weathered countenance once more, a sudden recollection surfaced. How did Ji Wuye acquire the funds he had so nonchalantly given the coachman earlier?
She clearly remembered that before they departed from the village, instead of making it clear that they were on an official sect mission, Ji Wuye had simply handed the old man a few coins without preamble.
Not only that, but the easy camaraderie between the coachman and Ji Wuye hinted at a deeper familiarity, as if this were not their first encounter on the road together.
'But how?' she wondered inwardly. As far as she was aware, every move Ji Wuye made within the sect was gossiped about and dissected by the other female disciples.
She had even caught wind of recent rumors about him carrying or owning some large cauldron, as well as whispers of him going shopping with some of the other Sisters.
A faint frown creased her brow as she recalled those idle tales. When did he acquire such funds?
'Maybe the other Sisters gave it to him, or the Senior Sisters?' she speculated, her mind grasping for a plausible explanation. For some inexplicable reason, the thought of Ji Wuye's recent outings and leisurely activities with the other women irked her.
Despite having only two years remaining, he not only seemed to be neglecting his training but was instead frittering away his time on frivolous pursuits.
Yet...that had been her initial, disdainful assessment. However, after their recent encounter and the raw power he had displayed, those dismissive thoughts swiftly evaporated.
Instead, another question took root: 'How could he be that strong?'
The Tower of God had long remained dormant, the remaining trials left untested. But her memory drifted back to that visit to his courtyard, where she had borne witness to the countless boulders and stacks of logs strewn about...
'Perhaps...I can do that too?' The thought blossomed in her mind.
But then…
"Fairy," the coachman suddenly spoke, shattering the stillness and catching Song Jia's attention. "Pardon this humble old man, but may I ask your position in the sect?" He inquired politely, his gravelly voice tinged with deference.
"It's no problem, Uncle." Though caught off guard by his abrupt question and the honorific he used, Song Jia managed a faint, albeit strained smile, her delicate features softening somewhat.
"Just call me Song. I'm merely an Outer Disciple," she continued, her melodic tone filled with a melancholic lilt.
Raising one slender leg, she rested her porcelain chin upon her knee, her gaze drifting back towards the mesmerizing dance of the flames after briefly glancing at the wizened coachman.
The grizzled coachman nodded, finally withdrawing the now thoroughly roasted rice from the glowing embers.
He brought a handful to his lips, savoring the smoky aroma as he noisily chewed, the crunching sounds carrying through the still night air and drawing Song Jia's attention.
"U-um, you should not..." He paused, gulping down the mouthful of rice. Turning his gaze towards the young woman, he continued, "treat him like that. As someone who has served the Kunlun heroes, I learned one thing."
He took a long draft from his water pouch, the liquid sloshing faintly, before offering Song Jia a warm smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "A kindness like a droplet should be repaid like a gushing spring."
With a deft flick of his wrist, he tossed a piece of the roasted rice towards her. Song Jia's lithe fingers moved instinctively, plucking the bumpy, oval shāobǐng from the air, her brows furrowing as she pondered the deeper meaning behind the coachman's words.
"Repaid like a gushing spring..." she muttered under her breath, eyes transfixed on the golden treat studded with sesame seeds, its rough texture reminding her of how she had falsely accused Ji Wuye earlier.
"But...that was different than now!" she blurted out, her voice rising before trailing off as she glanced towards the sleeping coachman, suddenly self-conscious.
Not knowing quite what to say or do, Song Jia tilted her head skyward, gazing up at the twinkling tapestry of stars.
"Ah, Master...this disciple is so foolish...please enlighten me..." A wry smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she found herself struggling to discern right from wrong.
It was all so complicated.
Previously, annoyed by Ji Wuye's treatment of her, she had miraculously performed the Rising Gale technique. Yet her mind had been clouded, impure. Seeing his mockingly smug smile, devilish thoughts had guided her hand to attack him first.
She knew, deep down, that she was at fault for striking first while he had only defended himself. But her pride refused to fully acknowledge that, the memory of his powerful kick still stinging.
However...
Those memories ignited a flurry of recollections of her previous mistakes. "Ah..." A soft gasp escaped her lips as realization finally dawned.
The reason he acted so cold towards her...
"I haven't even apologized..." She remembered only making amends with her Senior Sister, not the young man she had wronged.
…
Meanwhile, Ji Wuye stood atop a higher vantage point, the cold night wind whipping through his stark white hair as he surveyed the flickering campfire where Song Jia rested.
Thick trees blocked the view to his left and right, but his thanks to his passive skill, stripped bare the veil of darkness.
"Hmm, unusually peaceful," he murmured after carefully observing their surroundings. Choosing to settle cross-legged, he continued his vigilant watch, occasionally stealing glances at the brilliant full moon overhead.
However, the moment the word 'peace' had left his lips, a disturbance seemed to manifest. His crimson eyes, sharper than any blade, detected furtive movements in the distance - sneaky figures observing them from afar, their presence now unveiled.
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