Chapter 127

  Echoes (III)

  "How'd you do that?!" There it was, the question that had no answer.

  Well, it had an answer, just not a good one.

  The young woman's eyes shone like stars as she crouched down to meet Light's, though the latter just ignored her and continued hiding behind me. Other kids tensed up and shuffled forward, and, yes, when I say forward, I mean in front of me. Xi Zhao took my front, Dai Xiu my left, they somehow convinced Wan Lan to take my right, and Long Tao...

  Well, he was barely holding it together, to be honest.

  As was I.

  There was something so comical about this weird not-quite-Mexican standoff that I wanted to both cry and laugh all at once.

  "You... have rather strange kids, friend," the old man commented, holding back laughter as well.

  Strange? Yeah. That's one word for it. Know what's another?

  Insane.

  They're just batshit insane.

  "I've been frail often, so they worry," I quickly came up with an excuse. "I apologize for the youngest; she is no good with strangers, I'm afraid. Scares easily."

  "Like a kitten?" the young girl asked.

  "Master, make her go away. She's more annoying than mosquitos."

  "..." Well, kids never do have a filter, do they? Especially when you need them to have one.

  It sort of reminds me of an old story that my grandma loved telling people and the one that made my mom mad every single time. Supposedly, when I was four, my mom had some arrangements with friends to go out, but she wasn't feeling it that day, so she told them that I'd gotten sick and that she had to take care of me.

  Flash forward a couple of days later, I'm out with her shopping, and she runs into those exact friends. They ask me whether I've recovered, and I out my mom and expose that she was lying.

  ... Aah, to be a dumb kind.

  "That's rude, Light; apologize at once."

  "... I am very sorry," she listened, though the apology was as insincere as they come, to be honest.

  "He he, no need to apologize," the young woman said. "I am annoying like a mosquito. Especially when I become curious."

  "If you don't mind, friend," the old man spoke up. "You can come with us and stay at our camp, and let your kids gain some experience. It won't be a beautiful inn, but we have a spare Spirit Tent for you and the kids to stay in."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Haah.

  I barely hid annoyance in my eyes, especially so when I realized it wasn't so much an invitation as it was an order. Something about us--well, not me, but the kids--itched their fancy, and they seemed determined to figure out what.

  I don't want to go there, not under these circumstances at least, but I have a feeling if I say no, I'll either have to kill them too, or... yeah, there was no 'or'. They didn't look like the types to offer alternatives.

  "Of course," I forced on a smile. "How can we say no to such an amazing opportunity? My deepest gratitude, Senior."

  "Ho ho, no need to be so formal; most people simply call me 'Old Zemin', and you should too. How do I refer to the fellow Daoist?"

  "You may just call me Lu." It's not that I hadn't considered fake names for us all, but there really wasn't much of a need. Names like 'Tao' and 'Qi' and 'Xiu', and even surnames like 'Long' and 'Lu,' are so common in this world that I may as well be calling myself John Smith or something.

  "Very well, fellow Daoist Lu," he said. "Let us go." Though this was annoying and dangerous, it had certain benefits.

  Long Tao can work on his own--if he wanted to remain unseen, I doubt any of the people would realize it. There was no need to sneak in; we would have direct access to the place, even if we couldn't do anything with it.

  Furthermore, this man was likely an Elder of a Holy Land--which meant that he was informed as all hell about almost everything. Even learning a few bits and pieces of information from him, so long as we survive the entire ordeal, will have been worth it.

  "If you don't mind me asking," I broke the silence as we trekked through the rooted dirt. "Who are the Hollowers?"

  "Hmm, there really isn't a simple answer to that," the old man said. "Except maybe with a story. About six hundred years ago, a young, rogue cultivator appeared seemingly out of nowhere and started roaming from one famous sect to another, challenging their strongest disciples.

  "Each time it seemed like he would lose, he'd suddenly seem to break through, or achieve enlightenment of some sort, becoming victorious. Within a year, he'd swept through practically every first-rate, second-rate, and third-rate sect and turned his sights to the Holy Lands. However, not wanting to potentially have a public scandal, the Holy Lands banded together and ambushed the young man, killing him by perfectly thrusting a blade through his heart in one swift motion."

  "..."

  "Ever since then, there'd be instances like the one you just experienced--a disciple of a Holy Land is found dead, with one single wound. I'm not sure who came up with the name, Hollowers, but it had been around even before my time. To this day, we're not even sure if they're real, to be frank with you, or if it's one organization, or one person, or if it's merely our enemies using an old story to hide themselves."

  "What do you think?" I quizzed.

  "Me? Ho ho," he stroked his chin, laughing subtly. "I think that as we were cowards back then, they've been cowards since. Did you know that there have been no recorded--no, not even presumed--attacks on any of the Deacons or Elders of the Holy Lands? That all the attacks were against Disciples? But, ultimately, it is all merely a tale--whether and how much true it is, I doubt anyone truly knows."

  "Hm."

  Somehow, I don't think I'm being told the entire story here. I mean, it makes sense; he probably just indulged me and gave me the PR story that basically everyone affiliated with Holy Lands already knows. Regardless, the devil-may-care attitude may fool the kids, but it ain't fooling me.

  These people are proud--like, they'd give narcissists back on Earth a run for their money 'proud'--and you're telling me they have this blasé (pardon my French) of a reaction to being targeted by some unknown nobodies?

  Nah, fat chance.

  They're fuming--though, at least, they're very good at hiding it. Not everyone's Elder Zhang, I suppose, entirely incapable of controlling their tempers. Rather, it'd be odder otherwise; I knew very little about 'Holy Lands', but from what I did learn, it'd be impossible for them to exist if those in charge of them weren't more than just brilliant--but also extremely patient.

  And this seeming apathy, I imagine, is that extreme patience being put on display. How long will it last? Who knows...