"Master—"
"I'll be right back!" Wen Jingge slammed down.
The word "non-existent" appeared only briefly, but she still felt uneasy. It wasn't just the previous banquet of a hundred ghosts; she had overlooked something else.
As for what it is, we'll only find out by going down and walking the path we came from.
"Master, I'm going down..."
"Don't make things worse!" Lu Wei shook his head.
Now that he's become more and more adept at switching between these roles, there are many times when Yang Wennan doesn't know how to address this senior brother. Since leaving the mountain, this senior brother's temperament has become more and more similar to that of the Grandmaster.
He only showed a bit of his former foolishness when facing his master, and he was becoming increasingly difficult to understand.
"But……"
There are some things we can't help with.
The monk glanced at him a few more times. Lu Wei was unlike any demon he had ever seen. Suddenly, he murmured that question to himself: What is a demon like? What is a human like?
He couldn't solve such profound problems; he'd probably only be able to find the answer when his senior brother appeared.
"I have something I'm curious about." Yang Wennan looked at the Buddha of Compassion and Joy, as if he had hesitated for a long time. "You call my master 'Immortal Master,' so normally, a master and you..."
“My master…” The monk sighed with regret, as if he was heartbroken about something. “Now you can call me Brother Zhilin. My Dharma name is Zhilin. The words ‘sorrow and joy’ are just what others jokingly call me.”
"Um?"
"Both of us are without teachers, and according to our age, we are worthy to be called your senior brother."
"My master has been expelled from the sect. I have done nothing wrong, so I am considered to have no master." Lu Wei picked up a blade of grass from somewhere and put it in his mouth. He held a treatise on swordsmanship in his hand, but inside was a book on Buddhist cultivation.
Fortunately, the two of them were sitting opposite him, so they couldn't see his little actions.
Doing academic work is not shameful, but it depends on who you are in front of. For example, he would feel ashamed if Wen Jinge knew about it.
"What, what is it? Why can't I remember?" Wen Jingge muttered to herself the whole way.
The "non-existent" thing had tricked Wen Jinge before, but it inadvertently gave her a spark of inspiration. It didn't care about after-sales service at all.
The demonic harp hung beside him, its malevolent aura intimidating many. The children had long since become no different from wild beasts, and the largest black raven had disappeared. The children began to kill each other.
Initially, when they discovered Wen Jinge walking around, they also planned to come over, but the children gave up after the Demon Harp was suspended in the air and a few flashes instantly killed many people.
The unprecedented disaster that occurred on the road earlier is unfolding here, and countless others have been buried underground.
Wen Jingge remained silent, letting the magic zither lead the way. Suddenly, she heard several gasps, neither like those of wild beasts nor like the breaths of dying children.
She followed the sound and felt a voice in her heart telling her that the path was ahead, and that what she needed was there.
It was a child with a dirty face, his expression obscured. He was holding a black stone and putting it into his mouth; it tasted bitter and made his throat sore.
Several children were fighting behind him. They seemed to realize he was still alive, so they rushed forward and started stabbing him with weapons in their hands.
The child spotted Wen Jingge, and the children behind him noticed her too. The group of children stared at her with longing eyes and mechanically took hesitant steps toward Wen Jingge.
With his feet on the little boy's back, the stone in his hand rolled into the blood and grime. He stared at the black stone, and only after everyone had passed did he slowly crawl forward with a forced smile, his eyes fixed on that black stone.
Suddenly, a fair wrist appeared in front of him, and the person's bluish-gray sleeve hung down in front of him, snatching the black stone out before he could.
The black stone, soaked in blood, had become somewhat swollen. Wen Jingge didn't mind the dirt; it was a piece of steamed bun that had hardened somewhat, having gone through some unknown ordeal, and hadn't risen much even after being soaked in blood.
"Interesting," she said, seemingly to herself.
This child was the only one she found after walking for a while, the only one who was thinking about eating steamed buns instead of drinking human blood, even though there was no sign of life in his eyes.
The boy stared at her, at the blood on her hands, his gaze somewhat vacant, before turning back to her face.
The moon shines like frost, her beauty is ethereal, she must be a celestial being...
immortal……
His heart sank. He used to be the immortal that those people talked about!
But now, aren't we still going to be eaten?
"You want..." His throat seemed to burn as soon as he spoke, and he couldn't utter a complete sentence.
"Pah!" Wen Jingge took a bite of the steamed bun.
She did this very slowly, as if a picture was playing in her mind. It was a long time ago, and she seemed to be sitting like this, holding a very unpalatable dough in her hand.
The coarse grains tasted slightly bitter and astringent, requiring a lot of water to swallow, just like now, which she found repulsive.
But at that time, there were people behind her, many people, a great many people, surrounding her. What were they doing?
In the firelight, her face was unusually resolute, as if she wanted to say something, but felt powerless inside...
"Ahhh...ah..."
"Hehehe...hehe..."
The children, who had been dead, seemed to come alive. They struggled to their feet, their bodies so badly damaged they could barely stand, and rushed toward Wen Jinge.
The little boy closed his eyes in terror, as if he were certain he was going to die.
He thought: This person in front of me is a strange one, probably even worse off than me. Giving her some steamed buns before I die would be my last act of kindness to this world.
Wen Jingge didn't vomit. She had spat earlier because of the pebbles. Unconsciously, she had already finished the steamed bun with the blood.
Snap.
She looked at the back of her hand in confusion, a drop of water on it, which had rolled down from the corner of her eye.
"Is that you?" Her voice faded into the wind, and it was unclear to whom she was speaking.
The boy opened his eyes, but the more intense pain he had imagined did not occur. The strange man lay down beside him, eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.
The ground was filthy, stained with blood, and littered with corpses. She lay down fully clothed on top of the bodies, showing no panic, her posture relaxed, as if she were sunbathing in a deck chair.
Those former companions seemed to be blocked by something; they couldn't move at the alley entrance and could only howl, trying to provoke Wen Jingge.
"The Magic Harp." The woman spoke softly, as if murmuring in a dream, "Leave none for Ah-Cai."
The magic harp is intelligent and has never returned since it flew away. Like the Sword of Damocles hanging high in the sky, it is now summoned by its master and will surely be invincible.
The boy opened his eyes, looked at the sword in the sky, and felt something was missing in his heart. He glanced at the strange man a few more times, then closed his eyes again.
"Child."
"Um?"
Is there any food left?
"No...it's over." He sobbed, "You don't look...poor..."
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