Leading their newfound horses by their bridles, the three horsemen caught up to the caravan in a minute or two. It trundled along, no longer sprinting at the same breakneck speed as before. The horses pulling the wagons tossed their heads and huffed, breathing heavily. Smaller members of the caravan climbed over the cargo wagons, checking the goods were still settled, while others peeked out of the cloth-covered riding wagons, watching the men approach. Yellow talismans hung from the top of the riding wagons, dangling over the entrance flaps. At the sight of the three men riding up, the members of the caravan subtly tensed, then relaxed again.

A woman leaned out of one of the covered wagons. “What happened? The, the bandits…”

“Handled,” Zhao Guoren said, sitting up and crossing his arms proudly.

“By the kid!” the hammer-wielding horseman corrected him, smacking Zhao Guoren on the shoulder.

“Kid?” the woman asked, tilting her head.

Chen Wuya popped out from behind Zhao Guoren, his face twisted. Holding his nose, he leaned as far from the man as he could, breathing through his mouth. “Stinks! Damn mortals and their sweat…”

He caught sight of the dangling talismans and narrowed his eyes, curious.

The hammer-wielder nodded at Chen Wuya. “We ran back to see what all the screams were about, like you suggested. When we got there, the kid was the only one standing. All the bandits were… taken care of.”

The woman’s brows furrowed. “Are you telling stories again?”

The man spread his hands. “That’s Zhao Guoren, not me!”

She blinked and looked around. “And the horses… where did you find so many?”

“What’s all this?”

A scholarly man pushed out of the wagon beside the woman. Long white robes fluttered around him. Green embroidery climbed up his collar and coiled around his cuffs. He wore his hair in a bun, bound in a white cloth. He shook out his sleeves and peered at Chen Wuya, adjusting a pair of round-lensed glasses.

Instantly on guard, Chen Wuya ducked back behind Zhao Guoren and peered around him, eyes narrowed. Kai Bailong?

He wears white. He’s got a scholarly air. He appeared suddenly beside me. And his eyes… they remind me of Kai Bailong’s.

No, no, I shouldn’t be so suspicious. Dozens of scholars wear white. That isn’t enough to suspect someone.

Zhao Guoren grimaced. “Nothing worth worrying your scholarly head over, good sir.”

“A boy? Where did he come from? Was he kidnapped by the bandits?” the scholar asked. He swept a dismissive gaze over Chen Wuya.

“The boy can speak for himself. I walked, and for that matter, I defeated the bandits as well,” Chen Wuya said. Despite himself, he glowered back at the scholar. Looking down on me? Mere mortal, you dare?

He took a deep breath. Control yourself. Don’t let the demonic aura control you.

The scholar narrowed his eyes. “How interesting. Who would you be?”

Chen Wuya crossed his arms. “Chen Wuya, and you?”

“Jing Fengge.” He stared at Chen Wuya for another long moment, then harrumphed. Flicking his sleeve, he vanished back into the wagon.

“Does that guy have something stuck up his chrysanthemum?” Chen Wuya asked loudly, turning an innocent look on Zhao Guoren.

Zhao Guoren grimaced and raised a finger to his lips. “The good scholar is paying for passage on the caravan. We shouldn’t complain, even if he’s a little… stuffy.”

The woman rolled her eyes at Zhao Guoren. “Honestly, are you a child, too? Jing Fengge has had a hard time. There’s no need to bully him. He’s a scholar, he’s not used to travelling rough!”

“Bully him? Me?” Zhao Guoren asked, eyes wide.

“Lady, you can’t be accusing us of bullying. We’re innocent, innocent!” Chen Wuya added, shaking his head.

She sighed. “Don’t tell me, you too?”

An old lady poked her head out of a neighboring wagon. “Don’t bother, Wang Aiming! You know that Zhao Guoren. If he were to claim to be the second mouthiest, no one would dare claim first.”

Wang Aiming shook her head. She gestured to Chen Wuya. “Come on down. You must be tired from walking all this far. Ride in the wagon instead.”

It’ll stink less than riding behind this man! Nodding, Chen Wuya stood.

“Whoa, whoa!” Zhao Guoren shouted, clutching at the reins.

Ignoring him, Chen Wuya leaped from the horse to the wagon. Wang Aiming stared, impressed. “Now that’s skill. Maybe Zhao Guoren can learn from you.”

“Hey, now…”

“You should’ve seen him! Zhao Guoren’s got nothing on the kid!” the hammer-weilding rider agreed enthusiastically.

“In terms of mouthiness, or…?” Wang Aiming asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Zhao Guoren sighed. “Excuse me for liking to talk.”

Standing in the very rear of the wagon, Chen Wuya leaned backward to look closer at the talisman. Even this close, he sensed no qi emanating from them. They could just be deactivated…

“Ah, admiring our good-luck charms?” Wang Aiming said, smiling pleasantly.

He nodded silently, plastering an impressed expression on his face.

“They were painted by our very own Meiling. You’ll meet her soon… she’s about your age! And very pretty, just like a doll.” Wang Aiming nodded proudly, crossing her arms.

Ah, so they’re just good luck talismans drawn by a peasant girl. Dismissing them, Chen Wuya lifted the curtain and stepped inside the wagon. Jing Fengge sat against the wagon’s wall, reading. He turned a page in his book, paying Chen Wuya no mind.

Chen Wuya put a hand on his chin and settled down opposite Jing Fengge. Is he Kai Bailong? Hmm… he doesn’t seem to carry a sword, but in our past lives, Kai Bailong didn’t always reincarnate as a martial artist. He does have the right stuck-up, holier-than-thou air to him.

Jing Fengge lowered his book. “Can I help you?”

“Probably not.” Chen Wuya lowered his hand and leaned against the wall, bored.

After a second, he glanced at Jing Fengge. “What is this caravan?”

“How do you mean?” Jing Fengge said distractedly, turning another page.

“You’re a scholar, but you’re riding along with… merchants?” he guessed.

Jing Fengge sighed and lowered his book. “I see you aren’t going to let me read in peace.”

“No.”

“This is a group of travelling performers. I’ve paid for passage alongside the troupe, as have a few others. There aren’t many convoys willing to take the short route through the forest due to the bandits and monsters that live inside… I thought they had martial artists to handle it, but it turns out their plan was to run?” He sighed. “I should’ve suspected something. Passage cost far too little.”

“Where are we going?” Chen Wuya asked.

“You… entered the forest, without even knowing where the path leads?” Jing Fengge asked, taken aback.

Chen Wuya rolled his eyes. I know where it led a thousand-plus years ago. It’s reasonable to ask! It might’ve changed in the years since.

Jing Fengge shook his head. “We’re headed to Golden Pavilion City. It’s a port city, known for its trade. Golden Pavilion City is a center of wealth, as well. From what I understand, there’s a festival of some nature coming up soon that the performers wish to perform at.”

“How knowledgeable. As expected of a scholar,” Chen Wuya praised him.

Harrumphing, Jing Fengge raised his book again. “How ignorant. As expected of a martial artist.”

“What was that?” Chen Wuya asked.

Jing Fengge continued to read his book, casual. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Chen Wuya narrowed his eyes. Oh? Kai Bailong, do you reveal yourself? He reached for his sword.

“Let’s not fight here. We’re both headed to the city, yes? When we get there… let’s let our blades do the talking.” He licked his finger and thumbed another page.

“So, you do hold a grudge,” Chen Wuya said, lowering his hand. After a thousand lifetimes of nagging, it’s no surprise.

I’ll look forward to it! This ought to be a fight worth my time, at last. A vicious smile crawled over his face, full of killing intent.

“I wouldn’t call it a grudge. More… professional interest.”

Chen Wuya furrowed his brows, taken aback. Professional interest? Professional interest… as a righteous deity?

Jing Fengge waved his hand. “For now, let’s remain strangers. When we arrive… we’ll settle everything.”

“Fine by me.” Chen Wuya leaned against the wagon wall and closed his eyes. Half asleep, he peeked at Jing Fengge from under heavy eyelids.

Is he Kai Bailong? Was Kai Bailong always that aggressive?

Ah, who cares. I’ll know when we fight. One way or another… when we reach the city, everything will be… settled.

--

Dreaming, Chen Wuya shifted. His brows furrowed, and he twisted in his sleep.

Buzzing filled his ears. Sometimes louder, sometimes softer, but incessant, it grated at his ears. He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably. Where am I?

Darkness. A tight space. He reached out, confused. Long hands. Slender wrists. Arms again, and then legs, all twisted up together.

Wait. Arms… arms? Two sets of arms? What am I?

Faint light beckoned him ahead. He wriggled his way upward, unable to operate his limbs in such a tight space. A cap of some kind of waxy material blocked his way out. He pushed his legs toward it and clawed. Tiny scraps of wax rained down on his head.

Not fast enough! Frustrated, he wriggled up closer and bit at the wax as well. Powerful mandibles chomped directly through the wax.

Finally! He chewed, tearing it apart bit by bit. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. Unable to fight his instincts, he swallowed the wax down and snapped his mandibles down again, taking another bite.

So one life wasn’t enough. I still haven’t made up for my sins, huh, Kai Bailong?

It doesn’t matter how long you force me through this. I won’t give up! Chewing determinedly, he chomped through the wax.

Sunlight spilled past the wax cap. He stared out, wanting to blink but unable to.

Massive bees fluttered all around. As far as the eye could see, hexagonal tiles filled the walls. Thick golden honey dripped all around him.

No. Not massive bees.

He waggled his antennae and clambered out of his egg chamber, out into the hive. In his nearly three-sixty degree vision, he saw six spindly legs, a striped, fuzzy body, and translucent wings. He fluttered his wings, staring wide-eyed.

I’m—a bee!