Abyssal Discourse

The night was no longer silent, rippling like a gentle pond. A faint, detached smile dissolved into the deep hues of the night. Memories from not long ago surged back, clear and profound; or perhaps, it was that he was forced to remember.

Wu Zhuming braced his hands against the stone railing, his head bowed. The oppressive, aching pain in his body had gradually ebbed, and by now, it was hardly worth mentioning. Straightening up, he looked out; the night had returned to its usual state, with only a waning moon hanging in the dark sky, casting its cold, clear light.

Clenching his fists, Wu Zhuming closed his eyes in thought. The softness had vanished from his face; his posture suggested that if any malevolent, supernatural force truly existed, it could not shake him in the slightest. The night was chilling, yet perhaps the night feared him more.

A sense of regret lingered. After a long silence, he finally spoke:

"I couldn't say it..."

He reproached himself silently, but regret was useless. Wu Zhuming opened his eyes. What he needed to consider most, without a doubt—he unbuttoned his outer garment. The black-purple markings seemed to have seeped into his flesh, appearing much calmer now. They had spread into a pattern, coiling over his chest and suppressing his heart. Wu Zhuming tried to find a clue in his memories—when and how had he been infected by this strangeness? Never mind the reason; he didn't even know what it was.

"It doesn't matter," he thought, placing a hand gently over his chest. It was no different from usual; his heart beat with a strong, steady rhythm. *As long as this heart keeps beating,* he thought, *everything else is just a minor matter.* Thinking this with a half-joking air, he began to smile involuntarily. The biting wind cut across his face, and he forgot the previous pain as soon as he smiled.

But he couldn't just leave it be. Wu Zhuming looked toward the old house in the distance; it was dark. Had Brother Yun not noticed? Wu Zhuming felt no alarm regarding the disturbances on the mountain. He swept his gaze across the city—this city he knew so well—was there anything different about it? A thought suddenly struck him: "Yexiao, is this strangeness confined only to Yuantan Mountain?" His gaze was like a torch, peering into the distance.

The edges of the city could not be seen from here. No one knew when this city had risen, and even less was known about when "Yexiao" had earned its name. Although history had recorded some things, the many inquiries into this city remained blurred and obscure.

From this vantage point, one could see the city's Bright Tower—ancient, solemn, and towering among the high-rises, appearing majestic and unique. It was a tower expanded upon ancient foundations, a prominent urban landmark reaching toward the clouds and moon, with the bustling streets beneath. Beyond the city's concrete jungle lay the vast, verdant urban parks, easily distinguishable from above. They occupied a significant portion of the city; they were more like a forest within the city than a park. Staying inside, one could feel a tranquility distinct from the urban noise. One of its edges touched the foot of Yuantan Mountain.

Wu Zhuming's eyes drifted involuntarily to the area not far from the foot of the mountain.

Looking down, from the mountain's base to the distant, bustling edge of the city, there was an area commonly known to residents as "White Rock"—a place that leaned against the mountain or even sat upon it, bordering the noisy city. It was not large, but compared to the city, it was just a fringe. Simple and peaceful, it was where Wu Zhuming had always lived. He was familiar with every corner of "White Rock," perhaps even every corner of Yuantan Mountain. Under the cover of night, the lights of "White Rock" were always fewer than elsewhere in the city. Wu Zhuming frowned, thinking that if this were happening in "White Rock," how could this small place contain such a disturbance? His gaze was cold; today’s events were likely not a good omen.

The abnormal behavior of the two, the markings on his own body—Wu Zhuming could only associate these with one thing. But then again, he had lingered for a long time where he had encountered that person earlier, yet had failed to discover anything unusual, or he would not have left. If he had just gone in and confronted the person, it would have been better than this aimless wandering. Now, if he went back, he probably wouldn't find them. It was a pity; at that time, it was truly just because he had walked a few extra steps that he happened to see, hear, and encounter them.

Wu Zhuming closed his eyes, still remembering the blood shadows flowing under the pale light, the sound of tearing and breaking.

And the pair of gray eyes that were most deeply etched in his mind.

He opened his eyes, and to his surprise, the night had vanished. Before him lay an endless expanse of water, with rolling mountains in the distance. In an instant, the night had been replaced by another world.

Yet, Wu Zhuming acted as if he saw nothing. His eyes were resolute, and he made a decision:

He had to go back to that place.

Even if he couldn't find the person, he had to see. Even if the abnormality was faint, it had its portents and its causes, and he wouldn't understand them without going there. Once Wu Zhuming stopped thinking, he finally turned his attention to the world that had changed upon the blink of an eye. At the moment he opened his eyes, he hadn't felt a shred of surprise or doubt; only his brow remained furrowed, his eyes clear and calm. For him, this was not the first "inexplicable" anomaly of the day. But more importantly, he had to commit to what he had been thinking about, even if the sky changed the next time he opened his eyes.

Wu Zhuming carefully inspected his surroundings. The sky was clear and the clouds were sparse, spacious and free. Below him was a boundless water mirror; above was a silver-white sky tinged with red clouds, exactly like the scene that had flashed through his mind moments before. Since that was the case, Wu Zhuming turned around.

The woman was standing right before him.

Her long, jet-black hair hung down to the water's surface. Her deep, star-like black eyes met Wu Zhuming's resolute gaze. Her delicate, beautiful face held no obvious expression. Wu Zhuming could have spoken, but he remained silent. He felt no surprise; instead, he noticed the mountain behind her. That mountain, could it be...? The woman looked at him calmly. Wu Zhuming finally thought to ask a question, but before he could, the woman's gaze rested on his chest, and then, she revealed a slight smile.

In an instant, the world turned from white to black. The cold wind blew, and the night was eerie and silent. He was back. "If it's always like this, I can't take it," Wu Zhuming shook his head and raised his hand. He was startled to find that the oppressive, abnormal feeling had completely vanished. Puzzled, he turned slightly behind him; there was only the darkness that no light touched. He said to himself softly, "It really is one thing after another."

His phone vibrated in his pocket, pulling him from the strange atmosphere that had persisted all night back to reality. Picking it up, his smile spread from his heart to his face. He answered, "What's wrong, Brother Yun? Calling me at this hour?"

"I went to your place and couldn't find you. Where are you?" Wu Zhuming heard that the voice was more serious and steady than usual. He replied, "I'm on the mountain. Why, Brother Yun? If you want my company, you'll have to wait a while."

The person on the other end laughed once. "Yes, your brother really does need your company right now. Why are you running up the mountain so late? I’m heading to Yuantan Mountain now, you’ll be there—what? Tch, looks like I won't be there for a while. Come down the mountain quickly and wait for me at Yanweikou. By the way, are Li Cang and Shang Ye not with you?"

Wu Zhuming could hear many people around Brother Yun; that wasn't surprising, as Brother Yun was rarely idle. Wu Zhuming answered, "It just so happens you called when we weren't together. Those two probably headed down the mountain too; they’re hard to find, you know them. Look how busy you are, do you really need me to keep you company for a while?"

"Everyone in the organization is busy, I don't have the heart to chat with you. As for those two... don't worry, someone has already gone up the mountain. In short, I'll tell you the details when we meet." He hung up.

Wu Zhuming's expression turned serious. Thinking of Shang Ye and Li Cang, the group was usually inseparable, yet now that he needed them, they were nowhere to be found. And neither of them carried phones, which would make them hard to track. Wu Zhuming looked around; there was more than one path connecting this place, and they hadn't taken the same route when they left.

"It's a bit hard to see clearly now, that's for sure," Wu Zhuming said, looking at the darkness behind him. But for his own sake, he still had to go. As for the two of them, despite saying he wasn't worried, he couldn't help but care. Even after all these years of being together, he was still the same, not to mention that the two of them hadn't exactly been worry-free today. Wu Zhuming had no reason to doubt Brother Yun's words. For now, he still had his own business to resolve.

Decisive and swift, Wu Zhuming turned and stepped into the darkness. From his side, behind the stone tablet stood the massive, dark silhouette of Yuantan Mountain, solemn and miraculous. He glanced at the words "Zhuiyue Pond" on the tablet, didn't linger, looked around, and vanished into the night.

No sooner had Wu Zhuming left than a dark figure emerged from somewhere. The figure observed the tablet, thoughtful, then turned toward the direction Wu Zhuming had gone and disappeared.

Yuantan Mountain could not be called unreachably high, nor was it flat. Getting to its "Shuo Peak" was not an easy task. Thus, it was actually the many places in the middle of the mountain that were more frequently visited.

For example, here: a very broad, open space on the mountainside, a plaza paved with stone bricks. In the very center stood a high platform, said to be a place where ancient people held ceremonies. But judging by the neatness and luster of the stone, it was certainly no ancient artifact. Unlike the corners no one visited, this place was surrounded by bright, white light. On all sides, there were not only main roads leading elsewhere but also mountain stairs prepared for those going higher. If one wished to stay here, the surrounding benches and the patterns on the stone floor added some charm.

During the day, this was a place for pedestrians, but now, only the surrounding lights were diligently doing their duty. During the day, no one would spare a second glance at the stone platform in the center. The inscriptions on the pedestal looked newer than the base itself, though they were actually quite old. Unfortunately, without any other embellishments, it failed to draw attention. It was said that the inscription behind it was not the work of an ordinary person, but no one was willing to study it closely. Just as it was being ignored, a "black shadow" stood before the inscription.

The newcomer examined the inscription closely. He had a handsome face and short, jet-black hair. Just looking at him, he didn't seem mature or steady; in fact, he looked somewhat youthful—calling him a boy was more fitting than calling him a man. He was slender and tall, dressed in black. His face was young, but one could not see any callowness in it. Moreover, the steady brightness in his clear, black eyes was something an ordinary "boy" would not possess.

He stood beneath the stone platform, looking up, staring fixedly at the inscription. He muttered to himself, "Hidden here... how could this be here—" Before he could finish, his peripheral vision caught a different shade of "white," followed immediately by a clear, resonant voice:

"To think someone would be walking the night road at this hour too. Or is it a little cat? Following me all this time, what a mischievous and curious cat. Oh, did I scare you away with my voice?"

Wu Zhuming spoke as he walked over from the side. He smiled slightly, looking around as if truly searching for a cat, having completely forgotten that he had been breaking out in a cold sweat from pain not long before. He walked straight to the man and looked at the motionless figure in black. Wu Zhuming put on a radiant smile and said to him:

"Didn't scare you off, little cat?"

He crossed his arms. Compared to him, the man in black lacked a certain presence. The man before him only chuckled. Wu Zhuming asked him deliberately, "What, you recognize the meaning of the carvings? You should know, those who understand these things are from the past..."

"Apologies, although I can read the inscription, I don't understand the story behind it. I was just interested. Sorry for blocking your view." Wu Zhuming was interrupted mid-sentence. The man in black had a smile on his cold, handsome face, calm and composed.

Wu Zhuming scrutinized the man, and the man observed him in return. A tense atmosphere spread between them. Wu Zhuming laughed, staring into the man's eyes, and said, "I only said those things to test you, to make sure I wasn't mistaken. I didn't expect you really to know something. I still have to admire your skills. It's quite hard to hide on a night like this, isn't it? I walk, you walk; I stop, you stop, right? Haha. Not bad. Your form was hidden well, your breathing was controlled, and your pace was almost identical to mine. I wasn't entirely certain you were following me. Hey~ looking at me like that, could it be that I was just overthinking? Hahaha." Seeing the man remain silent, Wu Zhuming leaned his face in, stopping only when he was almost touching him, and said, "What for? Don't tell me you just happened to be passing by—that’s too distant. You put in so much effort to find me, and I even waited for you; isn't that fate? We must get to know each other properly."

Wu Zhuming straightened up. He was more than a head taller than the man, but his bright, smiling face only made him seem amiable, lacking the kind of pressure that would cause panic or fear. After a long silence, the man finally lowered his head and replied:

"I am terribly sorry. I got lost on the mountain and just followed the road where there were people. I didn't mean to cause a misunderstanding; please forgive me. I am actually not a local of Yexiao and am not very familiar with Yuantan Mountain. I came up so late because I have urgent business at Shuo Peak. To be honest, I am here to meet someone. If my actions just now were offensive, I apologize." He was extraordinarily calm when he said this, but Wu Zhuming was more concerned with the overly humble tone of his words.

This made it hard for him to say anything more. *But he still didn't say what his intention was in following me, other than just walking down the road?* Wu Zhuming thought to himself. *And meeting someone? An appointment, so late, what could it be?* He smiled; since the man didn't want to say, so be it. Wu Zhuming didn't think he had any ulterior motives, thinking, "Meeting is fate." So, he said with a serious expression, "No need to be so humble. Forget the apology; I didn't blame you, did I? Hmm... my name is Wu Zhuming. And you? I can't really call you 'little cat'."

Wu Zhuming's smile always had an infectious quality. The man paused slightly and replied, "You may call me 'Mo Ling'. 'Mo' for ink and brush, 'Ling' for feather."

"Good, little brother Mo Ling, then. We're acquainted now." Wu Zhuming laughed to himself and asked, "Why choose this time, and why meet at the top of the mountain?"

"Actually, the partner I am meeting is already at the peak. She loves the night view of Yexiao. For the sake of creative inspiration, she chose this time when there is no one around. We agreed to enjoy the night view together, but I really didn't expect to get lost and am now late to reach the summit."

"I see. A partner, it's hard to find the way so late. Is she a local of Yexiao? Mo Ling, could it be for her?" Wu Zhuming asked with a smile.

Mo Ling did not speak. A thought-provoking smile appeared in his calm expression. He replied:

"Yes, meeting here, on the Yuantan Mountain she knows so well, to fulfill a past promise."

After saying this, Mo Ling wanted to take his leave, citing that his partner had waited too long. Wu Zhuming picked up the thread: "Didn't you say you were going to Shuo Peak? Looking at you, I'm afraid you'll get lost in the mountains again. How about I be your guide to save you from wandering aimlessly, young man? Uh, does your friend mind meeting strangers, or is it that I shouldn't tag along? You decide." He had no ulterior motives; the most direct reason was simply that he wanted to get better acquainted with this friend he had just met. That was right—as long as he felt someone was a friend, he was like this with everyone: passionately difficult to refuse, making people somewhat unsure how to respond.

Mo Ling didn't answer for a long time. He blinked, then quickly replied, "That would be wonderful, as long as you don't mind me holding you back. As for the other person in our arrangement, don't worry. Even if it's just walking a stretch together, I am a newcomer and truly am not familiar with the vastness and depth of Yuantan Mountain."

Seeing him agree, Wu Zhuming reached out to hug him, but Mo Ling dodged, leaving him grasping at air. Before Mo Ling could react, his head was grabbed by a large hand, and then he heard Wu Zhuming say while ruffling his hair, "That’s good. They’ve made Yuantan Mountain quite accessible. I’ll take you to the path before the summit so you don’t have to search for the way. Stay close this time, haha." He laughed and started walking ahead, not forgetting to wave to see if Mo Ling was following. Mo Ling straightened his tousled hair and followed quickly.

Yuantan Mountain was by no means a magnificent mountain, but the road to the summit was not easy to walk, especially in the dead of night. One wrong step and you were at the end—not the top, but the bottom. It was a wonder Wu Zhuming could remember these twisting and turning paths. But as he walked, he felt strange. The further he went, the more he felt the difference in the night—the excessive silence, the different wind, the flickering light and shadows. Only someone as familiar as him could notice these subtle differences. Anyone else, looking only at the surface, would think it was just another identical dark mountain forest.

The higher they went, the fewer traces of people there were, and the more one could feel the profound, miraculous nature of Yuantan Mountain. One black, one white, they navigated the mountain stairs, both walking on stone brick roads. Wu Zhuming had intended to keep pace with Mo Ling, but when he looked back, Mo Ling was small but had great ability; he moved as fast as flying. With Wu Zhuming's familiarity, the two didn't stop for a break and covered most of the distance in no time. Along the way, Wu Zhuming chatted about this and that, while Mo Ling didn't like to talk much, only nodding or remaining silent.

Wu Zhuming was in front, and Mo Ling followed behind, truly like a little cat. Along the way, Wu Zhuming felt that Mo Ling was staring at him from time to time, making his back feel cold. Putting that aside, Wu Zhuming thought that before reaching the peak, he could take another path, directly to where he had met the other person yesterday—or was it today? Rarely, Mo Ling took the initiative to speak: "Thank you for guiding me, even though we are only casual acquaintances." Wu Zhuming replied casually, "No need for such courtesy. It's so late; your friend doesn't seem to be looking after you very well. You weren't familiar with the way, were you?" Mo Ling didn't answer. Wu Zhuming stopped; they had arrived.

Looking at the horizon not far away, the dark background of the night highlighted the strange majesty of "Shuo Peak." Looking up from below, the stone roads and stairs underfoot seemed to lead either to the mountain peak or to some alien realm.

Wu Zhuming raised an eyebrow. It had been a while since he came here at night; the mountain peak really did have a touch of the "miraculous." And as he looked at it, he felt the oppression in his chest flickering in and out. An illusion? Watching the silhouette of "Shuo Peak" under the night, he felt a vague "impression" emerging in his heart. Wu Zhuming couldn't help but think, *There really are so many inexplicable things today.*

"What is it?" Wu Zhuming was startled and turned his head; Mo Ling was looking at him. Had he said it out loud? "Inexplicable things," Mo Ling reminded him. He seemed very eager to know. The two were silent for a long time before Wu Zhuming approached Mo Ling mysteriously: "I'll show you something." He opened his clothes; the black-purple markings were very conspicuous even in the dark environment. Although this thing had caused him a great deal of suffering, by now, he seemed to have forgotten the pain once the wound had healed, and with a sense of mystery, he displayed it as a curiosity to someone he had just met.

Mo Ling stared for a long time, looking at Wu Zhuming's markings and then at his mysterious eyes, and said, "Nice tattoo." Wu Zhuming was stunned. Mo Ling didn't wait for his reply; he walked in front of Wu Zhuming, turned around, and with a cold, indifferent expression, acted as if they hadn't met before. He said:

"Thank you for the guidance. Since we are almost there, I won't trouble you any further. We part ways here." His words were polite, but he lacked the humble temperament he had when they first met. Instead, he was cold and indifferent, more in line with his cold, youthful face. It was strange; he hadn't been like this along the way.

Wu Zhuming pursed his lips and walked toward a small path that was not the way they had come. He walked while looking back: "I'm leaving then." He looked back again: "Going now." It was as if he was a bit angry. He looked back a third time: "Really leaving now." This time he walked for a long distance, almost out of sight. When he looked back again, Mo Ling frowned in confusion, not understanding what he meant. Wu Zhuming gave him a bright smile and turned to leave.

Seeing Wu Zhuming truly gone, Mo Ling's serious expression relaxed. He didn't head to "Shuo Peak" immediately but stopped to think. "So that’s why... the black poison, that woman..." he muttered to himself. "It’s stabilized, but as always, she doesn't know her limits..."

"Since you still can't stand her, why are you in such a hurry? As soon as the time came, you couldn't wait to come up the mountain. Couldn't you have picked another time? I haven't slept and had to come here to blow in the cold wind. Oh, there you are."

Mo Ling turned suddenly and looked up. He hadn't noticed at all. When had another person appeared? Not far away, a man stood facing him, medium build, not very young, with an unpleasant, fawning smile on his face.

Searching his memory, Mo Ling was certain he didn't know this person. If it were an old acquaintance, it wouldn't have made him this vigilant. The man seemed to see through his thoughts and spread his hands, saying, "It's normal you don't know me. After all, I only came recently. Unlike you, you're an 'old friend,' I'm just an outsider." The man appeared very relaxed.

Mo Ling frowned, his eyes cold. It was one thing to know he was an "old friend," but he knew nothing about this person—his purpose, his origin, nothing. He didn't know where this stranger had come from. However, he couldn't delay. Treating it as if he hadn't seen the man, he maintained his composure and started to walk.

"Wait a second. You could at least acknowledge me. You can't just walk away. Take a look at this first." The man took out something that looked like a dark red crystal. Mo Ling saw it and feigned surprise, saying, "Her relic, ha... so what? Please move aside, I'm leaving." He wasn't interested.

"Sigh, why are you like this? Isn't this thing condensed from her blood? What relic? It's only a relic if the person is dead! Hey, hey, don't go. This is the only decent thing I have." The man looked distressed and blocked Mo Ling. Mo Ling stood there to see what tricks the man had, and also, wasn't that thing just a drop of her blood blooming? Though it looked like the real thing, with protrusions on all sides and a blood core left in the middle—a blood flower, that was a good description.

Seeing the man wasn't moving, Mo Ling shook his head, intending to leave. Unexpectedly, the man's voice came from behind: "Unfortunately, you have to stay a little longer." This voice was different from the man's previous flippancy—it was calm and natural. He looked back and saw the man toss the blood flower: "Catch." Mo Ling didn't have time to react. The moment his finger touched the flower, it shattered.

It fell to the ground, and blood brilliance bloomed, black-red, obscuring the moon, spreading like flames, shaking in all directions.

In an instant, the peace of the night was lost.

The shattered sky, the twisted night—looking closely, it was red; looking from afar, it was the deep color of the night. Blood-like cracks fell to the ground, all because of that one drop of the woman's blood. Mo Ling was somewhat surprised. Based on his past knowledge, he didn't think a single drop of her blood could do this, even if these twisted anomalies were temporary, and he hadn't felt that the substance of this black-red was any different from before. Looking at the man, he guessed he had done something to it.

The man stood to the side, silently watching everything around him, saying, "I told you to catch it, not break it." Seeing Mo Ling still staring at him, he added, "You’re quite familiar with her, don't you know what her blood flower is for? Although this drop of her blood is a bit unusual, it mainly depends on you." He pointed at the sky with a smirk.

Mo Ling looked up. The crimson-black was dispersing as lightly as wind and invading everything like fire—like blades, like brushstrokes, like the ever-changing "ink," blending together. The sky looked like a landscape painting, only drawn in crimson-black.

Familiar, all too familiar. After all, it could be said to originate from him.

However, the "flow" inside his body would only present as black; that red must be the manifestation of her blood drop. He had just touched it, and he had merged into this blood? He had already discovered that his legs couldn't move; ink-color hung around his body, and though not touching him, it imprisoned him invisibly. Watching this black-red, smoke-like thing, he remained unhurried, still sighing in his heart, "Although it hasn't learned it well, it’s not far off." These things connected into lines, one after another, like chains linked to him. He did indeed feel his body constrained, and when he moved his fingers, there was no change. This meant the "blood flower" had indeed learned some of his essence. But blood drops weren't meant for this; perhaps using its own properties to drag and attach to him, slightly suppressing him, was its limit.

Mo Ling looked coldly at the man; he naturally knew how to crack his own abilities. This guy probably understood that it couldn't hold him for long, so what was his purpose? The blood-colored mirage faded faster than Mo Ling had expected. He closed his eyes; in an instant, all the anomalies would vanish.

The next second, Mo Ling felt no more influence; his body felt light. He was puzzled; he hadn't even exerted any effort yet.

"Little brother Ling, little brother Ling? You really are like a cat, not letting people rest. Aren't you going to your appointment? Still standing here."

Mo Ling opened his eyes. There was no cataclysmic change; there was only Wu Zhuming's face inches from his own. Mo Ling relaxed and chuckled, "Why did you come back?" Wu Zhuming pinched his cheek: "I didn't go far, and then I saw the sky change color over there, and I could even hear the sound. So I ran back quickly. Are you all right... Oh, look at this." Wu Zhuming was full of concern, lifting Mo Ling's right hand; there were drops of blood on his index finger, he didn't know how it had been cut. Wu Zhuming went to suck the blood from the finger, and Mo Ling looked at his own finger. Cut? He turned to look at Wu Zhuming. *Did he come back?* he thought.

"Just a small wound, I have to go," Mo Ling pulled back his right hand and turned to leave, but couldn't help looking back halfway.

Wu Zhuming had that warm smile as always, looking at him with clear eyes, as if he wouldn't be at ease until he watched him leave.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Wu Zhuming crossed his arms and asked Mo Ling with a smile. Mo Ling shook his head and said to Wu Zhuming, "It must be a promise that cannot be forgotten, don't be delayed." Wu Zhuming turned and walked away again, his back to Mo Ling.

"There really is a kind of fate... we will meet again." Mo Ling said in a cordial tone, "I hope it won't be long, Brother Zhuming."

Looking behind him, Mo Ling was gone. He waved his hand helplessly and walked straight down the mountain.

"Who said we couldn't meet again?" Wu Zhuming's voice was masked by the mountain forest, and his silhouette gradually moved further and further away.

He didn't know where he had walked to when someone brushed past him. He hadn't even noticed. Wu Zhuming turned slightly; was someone still going up the mountain? He didn't pay much attention, only smelling a faint scent of blood.

The man didn't look back until he was far away. He gazed at Wu Zhuming's tall back for a long time, unable to let go.

Only after a long while did a smile cross his lips, and he whispered to himself:

"Wu Zhuming, eh? I really wanted to see you both today, only... it's getting late."

He walked a few steps, then turned back, his figure fading into the night of Yuantan Mountain.