Pondering aloud, he said, “Let’s set aside the first and second threads for now. The third thread I mentioned concerns this boy himself.”
— “Who carved so many scars into his arms? These scars are of various ages and shapes, clearly inflicted at different times by different people. And who could be so cruel as to harm a child like this?”
— “He can hear others speak but cannot speak himself. It’s obvious he wasn’t born mute. How did he lose his voice, or who caused it?”
— “And when we came from the edge of the forest to this temple, did you notice any fragrance lingering on him, something that has followed us this entire time?”
Huo Xiao Di nodded. His sense of smell was always sharp. “Yes, there was a faint herbal aroma. It was already present back at the inn, but the scent is weaker now than it was yesterday. If I’m not mistaken, it’s coming from the boy himself.”
— “But what about this scent? It can’t be used as medicine!”
This remark sparked an idea in Zhan Ri Fei. A glimmer of light flickered in his eyes, and for a moment, his pale face seemed to radiate a glow so striking that no one dared to look directly at him. His usually composed voice now carried a trace of barely restrained excitement.
“You’re right. These three threads, if we strip them down to their essence, may actually be one thread. I’ve been overlooking someone, and this person is likely the key connecting all three threads!”
Huo Xiao Di asked, “Who are you talking about?”
Zhan Ri Fei enunciated each word with precision: “This person is Ge Yun Fei!”
Huo Xiao Di was startled. “But Ge Yun Fei is already dead, isn’t he?”
Zhan Ri Fei replied with layered meaning, “Yet sometimes, even the dead can speak.”
Huo Xiao Di stared at him, slack-jawed, as if he’d just realized that the calm and collected man in black before him had suddenly started spouting nonsense. His curiosity flared. “Then what exactly has this dead man said to you?”
Zhan Ri Fei smiled faintly. “Before his death, he did indeed hint at the secret of Xing Yun Manor.”
Huo Xiao Di was even more puzzled. “Him? When did he ever hint at that secret? I was right there beside him at the time—how did I not notice anything?”
Zhan Ri Fei replied, “Ge Yun Fei’s actions before his death were very strange. Huo, do you remember what he was doing just before he died?”
Huo Xiao Di’s face reddened slightly in the dim light, and he retorted, almost petulantly, “Wasn’t he trying to kill the boy? What’s so strange about that? If it hadn’t been for the Tang Sect poison taking effect so quickly, and my timely arrival, that boy would already be dead, just another soul claimed by Ge Yun Fei’s blade!”
Zhan Ri Fei’s smile deepened, but instead of responding directly, he posed an odd question to Huo Xiao Di—one that Huo found himself unable to answer right away.
“If Ge Yun Fei truly intended to harm the boy, then after stabbing him the first time, why didn’t he strike a second blow immediately? Why did he instead pull the boy toward himself?”
Huo Xiao Di froze, stunned.
The events of the previous day at the inn on Little Hammer Mountain flashed vividly in his mind.
— Blood splattered everywhere.
— The boy’s frail, freckled face contorted in pain, unable to speak, unable to cry out. The helplessness in his expression.
— The frantic leap Huo had made to stop Ge Yun Fei from landing the second strike.
— But there had been no second strike.
The only thing he could clearly recall was Ge Yun Fei’s rough, dirt-streaked hand tightly clutching the boy’s bleeding arm.
— The wide, unblinking eyes Ge Yun Fei had in his final moments.
— The hand that refused to let go, even in death.
— His head, slumped against the boy’s arm.
Could it be—could it really be—?
Huo Xiao Di stared at Zhan Ri Fei in disbelief. “Are you saying that Ge Yun Fei’s so-called ‘hint’… was this boy?”
— “The treasure the Tang Sect has killed so many for is actually this boy?”
— “The one Xing Yun Manor’s people risked their lives to protect is this boy?”
— “And the one the Grandmother of Han Shui Palace has yearned for day and night… is still this boy?”
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