Chapter 85 — Old Grounds
劍問蒼天 · Page 2 of 6
But after only a moment, Xiao Hui made up his mind. He chirped twice at Da Huang and went first into the grove—though "walked" was not quite the word, for oddly Xiao Hui did not climb the bamboo; instead he supported himself on his forelimbs and hopped slowly inward, looking wary and yet somehow full of expectation.
Da Huang whined twice and set off too, following behind him into the grove.
A monkey and a dog wove slowly through the quiet bamboo, and soon vanished from sight.
The morning light was blocked by the dense bamboo leaves, but through the gaps rays still filtered down, becoming finger-thick shafts of light that fell from above the grove onto the ground below.
Xiao Hui and Da Huang walked slowly on through the bamboo, on and on... Before they knew it, they had come to a certain spot deep in the grove, a small clearing that looked somehow familiar—in the haze of memory, it seemed to be the place where Zhang Qingyue had first come and labored to cut bamboo.
Xiao Hui stopped, crouched in the clearing, scratched his head, and looked around.
In the deep bamboo, all was still.
Yet some nameless presence seemed to drift here.
Making the heartbeat slowly quicken...
"Pu!" A soft footstep fell into the stillness deep in the grove.
Xiao Hui and Da Huang turned their heads at once. A figure slowly emerged from behind a thick bamboo stalk.
The grove fell silent again—but a moment later, a cry of joy burst out. Xiao Hui sprang up, his body streaking like a gray ray of light, leaped into the air, and flung himself into that person's arms!
He clung tightly to the man's clothing, laughing aloud, pouring out his delight without restraint, chirping and chirping with unending laughter.
The man brought his arms around him; the old ferocity was now nowhere to be seen, and between his brows was a gentle smile that had not shown itself for so long, as he gathered Xiao Hui into his embrace. A moment later he seemed to sense something else, looked down, and a trace of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth; he bent forward and stroked the head of Da Huang, who was rubbing against him, and said with a smile, "Da Huang, have you been well?"
Da Huang of course could not speak; he only whined low, tail sweeping back and forth without pause, nuzzling his palm.
At the corner of his eye, where no one could see, light seemed faintly to gather: "You two alone still treat me as you always did!"
He sighed softly and drew a deep breath—the scent of this bamboo grove, once so familiar and so missed.
"Hua hua!"
Then came another hurried clatter of footsteps: the Wild Wolf Daoist burst out from behind him, and from the several rents torn in his ragged Daoist robe by thorns, it was plain he had taken the wrong path.
The Wild Wolf Daoist's face was full of ill luck, and he grumbled at the former Zhang Qingyue, now Ming Li: "Hey, you brat, have you gone mad? If you want to die, there's no need for this! This is the Canglan Sect—if anyone spots us, even ten lives apiece won't save us!"
Suddenly Da Huang, who had been so docile with Ming Li a moment before, turned his head. The fur on his neck stood on end, and he bared his teeth in a snarl, plainly taking a great dislike to the wild dog. A moment later Da Huang let out a roar and actually lunged.
The wild dog was badly startled. Seeing this huge beast, nearly half a man's height, come hurtling at him, his heart lurched; instinctively he reached for his fang-tusk artifact.
But just then Ming Li said mildly from the front: "If you dare use your artifact to hurt this dog, I'll cut off your hands and feet and throw you down the mountain in front of the Shoujing Hall."
The wild dog was dumbfounded, then furious: "What did you say—"