“Hey, kid!”

Chen Wuya snatched the hand out of the air before it could touch him. He opened his eyes.

Zhao Guoren furrowed his brows at him. “You were dead asleep. Must’ve been tired. I figured you’d want to get up for dinner, though.”

Chen Wuya sat up slowly. He let go of Zhao Guoren and rubbed his eyes, then let out a great yawn. He glanced around the wagon, but he sat alone.

“Jing Fengge’s already eating, if that’s who you’re looking for,” Zhao Guoren said.

“Mmm.” He stood and hopped out of the wagon, wandering over to a communal fire.

The sun hung low in the sky. Long shadows overshadowed the camp from the forest around them. The forest laid in twilight, its depths shading darker with the setting sun. A few men and women stood around the fire, tending to the food or chatting.

Halfway there, Chen Wuya stopped dead. That man—that girl! From the puppet show! He stared intently, eyes slowly narrowing.

As if he sensed Chen Wuya’s gaze, the puppeteer turned. He frowned, then smiled. “Oh! It’s you. From the village! Did you enjoy the show?”

“It was… interesting,” Chen Wuya said, squinting his eyes and turning his lips up.

“I’m glad to hear it! Come by our show at the festival. I’ve got some new puppets to debut, and my little Meiling’s been practicing new music. It’ll be even more exciting!” the puppeteer said enthusiastically.

“Ah… is that so,” he said, squinting harder.

Meiling grabbed her father’s sleeve. She nodded at Chen Wuya and backed away, leading him with her.

“Eh? What is it? Meiling…”

He watched the girl go, eyes still narrowed. Now that I’ve got a closer look, there’s a familiar cast to her features, and on top of that, she’s the one who painted the talismans. Could it be she’s a reincarnation of Meiling… the heroine who helped seal me?

A second later, he smirked and shook his head. Meiling is a common name. I’m seeing boogeymen everywhere in my search for Kai Bailong.

Gathering a bowl of food, Chen Wuya wandered off. He ate as he walked, a wary eye on the forest. That thing I saw earlier was almost certainly a demonic beast. If it comes back, this caravan is as good as dead. Jing Fengge… whether he is or isn’t Kai Bailong, he isn’t willing to protect the caravan.

I don’t particularly care about the caravan, but a fight is a fight. I came here to train, after all.

And… I’m curious. The village I watched over as a samsara tree became poisoned once more. If the forest I purified became overrun with demonic beasts again… isn’t that a bit too much of a coincidence?

Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow stirred in the forest.

Chen Wuya set his bowl down on a nearby stone and put a hand on his sword. Circling casually around the trees, he approached the shadow. Through the trees, the shadow shifted. It turned subtly, tracking him.

He lunged through the trees, drawing his sword. A sword flashed out to meet him. Steel clashed against steel.

A laugh rang out. “It must be fate.”

“You again?” Chen Wuya snapped. He jumped back, lowering his sword.

“Are you following me, after all?” Fen Long asked as he sheathed his own sword. He shook his head, and his long dark hair shimmered, white ribbon at the bottom flashing in the low light.

“Why would I?” Chen Wuya bit.

“I’m only teasing. What brings you here, to the forest?” Fen Long asked, tipping his head.

“Training,” he said with a shrug. He paused suddenly, then leaned in.

“Chen Wuya?” Fen Long asked, startled.

Now that I look closer, his eyes aren’t unlike Kai Bailong’s…hmm. I’ll keep a watch on him and Jing Fengge both. If either of them show any signs…

He smiled, putting a hand on his chin. I was just going to run away, but Jing Fengge made a good point. I ought to fight, first! It’s too hard to find a good fight in this era. If nothing else, Kai Bailong ought to be worth fighting.

“Er… Junior Brother?” Fen Long asked, leaning away.

He stood back upright. “Nothing.”

“Little hero! Do you have a friend?” a boisterous voice boomed out. Zhao Guoren stomped through the forest, carrying his own bowl.

“Not at all. I merely ran into someone on the side of the road,” Chen Wuya replied, pokerfaced.

“Chen Wuya! Aren’t we friends?” Fen Long replied, fake-wincing.

Zhao Guoren shook his head and smiled. “A friend of the little hero is a friend of us. Come on, have some food! It’s dangerous in the woods for kids to travel alone.”

“I’m no child. I’m seventeen,” Fen Long protested.

“Are you going to recruit every swordsman you lay eyes on?” Chen Wuya complained, frowning at Zhao Guoren.

Putting his hands on his hips, Zhao Guoren chuckled. He gestured toward the flickering fire and the pot atop it, emanating a savory smell into the forest. “Surely a warm meal is better than a night in the cold?”

Fen Long took a deep breath and licked his lips. “It would be rude to refuse.”

“Don’t you give in, too,” Chen Wuya muttered under his breath. He picked up his bowl off the rock and moved back to the fire.

“Wonderful, wonderful. What fortuitous encounters, to run into two heroes in the woods!” Grinning, Zhao Guoren slapped them on the back.

He leaned in. Quietly, he continued, “It’s our first time taking this route. We got held up by the recent storms, and couldn’t make it to the festival if we took our normal route. I thought me and the boys could protect the caravan, but… I think I miscalculated the danger of this forest. Thank goodness I ran into the two of you. Listen, heroes. If you help protect the caravan, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chen Wuya rolled his eyes and pulled away.

“Of course. I would do it even without compensation,” Fen Long pledged, a hand over his heart.

Zhao Guoren beamed. “That’s what I like to hear. Come, come. Let’s get you a big bowl for dinner.”

Settling back by the fire, Chen Wuya watched it burn. Fen Long joined him, sitting close beside him. For a few breaths, they ate in silence.

“Thank you,” Chen Wuya said at last, quietly. The crackle of the fire almost swallowed his words entirely.

“It was nothing. You were counting on me, right?”

Chen Wuya snorted. “Do you think anyone would run wild across the countryside to forge a pill, just because I said I was counting on them?”

“No. But I would,” Fen Long said earnestly.

“You’re a better man than I,” he laughed.

Fen Long shook his head. “I’ve never thought that. Not once.”

“Eh? You should,” Chen Wuya said, staring at him. Most people are better people than an ex-evil-deity. Don’t put yourself down like that.

Adamant, Fen Long shook his head again.

Seeing there was no way forward except to engage in a pointless argument, Chen Wuya sighed. He scraped the bottom of his bowl and set it aside, then climbed to a kneel and shuffled closer to the fire. With the sun rapidly vanishing below the horizon, nothing held off the nip of mid-spring. A cold breeze blew, and he shivered.

Fen Long draped a robe over Chen Wuya.

“I’m fine, I’m used to it,” Chen Wuya protested. He began to remove the robe.

Fen Long held it in place. “Do you want to catch cold?”

Reluctantly, Chen Wuya settled down, pulling the robe around him. “You aren’t cold?”

“No. I had an extra robe in my bag,” Fen Long replied.

Chen Wuya stared at him. He furrowed his brows. “Fen Long—”

The earth shook as Zhou Gouren plopped down beside them. Knocked off-balance, Chen Wuya fell against Fen Long.

“Look at you two, getting comfortable!” Zhou Gouren chuckled.

Chen Wuya shoved himself upright. “Getting comfortable, your grandmother!”

Before he could say anything else, Fen Long clapped a hand over his mouth. “Language!”

Zhou Gouren laughed heartily. He clapped Chen Wuya on the shoulder and raised a gourd of alcohol. “Here’s to our two heroes! Do you drink?”

Nodding, Chen Wuya reached for the gourd.

“No. We come from an ascetic sect,” Fen Long replied, hand still clasped over Chen Wuya’s mouth.

“Ah? You’re both from the same sect? Which one?” Zhou Gouren asked.

Annoyed, Chen Wuya opened his mouth and bit Fen Long’s hand. Startled, Fen Long yanked his hand back. “Ow!”

“Serves you right,” Chen Wuya replied, narrowing his eyes. “I can drink alcohol.”

“I wouldn’t want to offend your elders,” Zhou Gouren demurred, taking another swig for himself.

Wrinkling his nose, Chen Wuya turned and glared at Fen Long.

Innocent, Fen Long tilted his head. “Children shouldn’t drink.”

“I’m not a child!” he snapped.

Zhou Gouren shook his head, chuckling. “Have you two heard the myth about this forest?”

“Myth?” Fen Long asked, his eyes sparkling.

Falling silent, Chen Wuya watched Zhou Gouren expectantly.

“They say a martial deity watches over this forest. A martial deity… who loves good liquor! So if you must pass through the forest, make sure to offer liquor to the deity. I don’t have a second gourd, so this will have to do.” He raised his gourd and spilled some onto the dirt.

A martial deity who loves liquor. Chen Wuya sighed, his eyes hazy with half-forgotten memories. A long time ago, I remember…