Xue Xian raised his chin, skeptical. “You intend to support me with only one arm? You’re kidding.”
Unfazed, Xuanmin left his hand outstretched.
“Fine. But if I end up breaking something, you’ll have to take responsibility,” Xue Xian said blithely.
He braced his arms against the wall and leaped off. In the next second, he transformed from man to paper doll with a poof. He even adjusted himself to Xuanmin’s palm; the paper figure was now smaller as it fell, no larger than a hand. It fluttered like a leaf down into Xuanmin’s palm, though its spread arms and legs made it look more like a starfish.
After witnessing Xue Xian in his human form, being confronted with that lifeless painted face—reminiscent of a wide-eyed corpse—was still a jarring experience, even with the size difference. Xuanmin averted his gaze, unwilling to assault his eyes any further, and placed Xue Xian back inside the pouch.
However, Xuanmin showed a bit of sympathy this time. He didn’t shove Xue Xian to the bottom of the pouch, but left his head out in the open. That way he could lean against the pouch’s opening and breathe a little from time to time.
Surprisingly, Xue Xian remained unsatisfied. “Somewhere else, please.” Despite his words, his tone was anything but polite.
Xuanmin found himself caught off guard. After a few exchanges, Xue Xian had already forgotten that he was the captive and was starting to throw his weight around. Had there ever been a prisoner who would so boldly demand a master bedroom?
Looking down at the doll, Xuanmin asked, “Where else?”
A paper doll didn’t have a skeleton, so Xue Xian easily twisted his head the entire way around. “The shoulder!” When Xuanmin didn’t reply, Xue Xian even had the audacity to continue, “I can’t see anything from this stupid spot. The angle’s too low. I want to be on your shoulder!”
His shoulder? Why not ask for the heavens next?
“No longer afraid of falling?” Xuanmin asked blandly.
“What, are your shoulders lopsided? Or do you bounce when you walk? Why would I fall if you don’t sway about?” Xue Xian snapped back without a second thought.
Xue Xian truly had a comeback for everything. Defeated, Xuanmin shook his head. “Come up.” He then paid no further heed to his passenger and started walking.
Xue Xian crawled out of the pouch and waited, but Xuanmin didn’t reach down to help him.
“Your hand?” Xue Xian soon demanded.
“Climb up by yourself,” Xuanmin said.
Xue Xian stared in surly silence. To a pampered lord like him, crawling around on the ground was a deep humiliation. He’d rather die than do so. To climb using his arms like a monkey… Well, that was just barely tolerable. He looked up, assessed Xuanmin’s height, and chose to debase himself, stretching out his precious “dragon claws” and catching them into the monk’s robes.
Xuanmin’s clothes had a peculiar texture. The fabric wasn’t quite like raw hemp, but neither did it feel like the processed kind. The weave wasn’t particularly delicate, but it was still soft, and the spotless fabric was bleached almost snow-white. They didn’t look like robes that the average monk could afford, and there was an indescribable smell to them, like a pine forest deep within the mountains, blanketed in fresh snow.
The featherlight Xue Xian swiftly climbed from Xuanmin’s hip to his collar with a few scampering moves. Getting from his collar to the shoulder only required a quick flip of Xue Xian’s paper body, and it was the shorter route as well—yet he chose not to go that way. Instead, he clung to Xuanmin’s collar while gazing at his shoulders, then looked up once more.
His bizarre angle afforded him a view of Xuanmin’s slender, pointed chin, but he couldn’t see anything beyond that. Xue Xian briefly adjusted his position, then flung himself upward to latch onto Xuanmin’s chin. Like a cat with its tail on fire, he climbed up the bridge of Xuanmin’s nose, then pushed himself off Xuanmin’s brow to leap sideways onto his shoulder. Though no feet were involved, it was an apt demonstration of “stepping on someone’s face.”
Xuanmin didn’t know what to say to such a show of audacity and fearlessness. Xue Xian couldn’t have been an insignificant demon. However, Xuanmin could not sense much of Xue Xian’s original body in his aura, making it difficult for the monk to determine exactly what kind of evil spirit the paper doll was.
Speaking of his original body. Xuanmin eyed Xue Xian on his shoulder. “Earlier, you told that rogue scholar ghost that you’re still alive.”
Xue Xian adjusted himself until he found a comfortable position, then he leaned back on his hands and dismissively replied, “Yeah, so it was wrong of you to capture me.”
“Mm. Where is your original body?” Xuanmin asked.
Some people were just naturals when it came to hitting people’s sore spots. Jiang Shining, that skinny reed, was one of them, and this bald donkey was one as well.
Just where was his original body? Even Xue Xian himself didn’t know.
That day in Huameng County, Guangdong, someone had stripped him of his tendons and bones, then a torrential downpour had followed, causing the tides to surge. The towering waves swept him right into the sea. Consumed by unbearable agony, he lost consciousness. By the time he opened his eyes again, he found that his spirit had already left his body. Without the support of his spirit, his massive body couldn’t maintain its form and shrank, transforming into a golden marble.
He’d hoped to hide that marble away and return to his body once his soul was sufficiently restored. Alas, the heavens played a cruel prank on him. While his mind was still in a haze, a large wave washed the marble ashore. Through the seawater, he could only watch as a fisherman picked it up. By the time he was fully conscious and ready to give chase, the man was gone.
Recalling the events made Xue Xian’s temper flare, and his eventual answer was annoyed and clipped. “I’m still searching for it!”
Xuanmin looked askance at him again. Losing your own body? Quite an impressive feat.
Xue Xian wasn’t being blasé about the matter. It was just that finding his body was a trivial issue compared to exacting revenge on the one who’d stripped him of his bones. He couldn’t find his body because his vitality was greatly damaged, severing the connection between his spirit and physical form. Once he was fully recovered, he’d be able to sense its location. At that point, finding it would be child’s play.
However, even though he wasn’t actively searching for his body, that didn’t mean he’d remain indifferent if it showed up by itself. Xue Xian recalled that droning noise and couldn’t stop himself.
“The layout of this compound is a bit stran—”
But as Xue Xian was speaking, Xuanmin calmly walked across the main hall and passed through two narrow doors without running into any danger. When Xuanmin was about to open another narrow door, Xue Xian cut himself off and changed the subject. “Wait! Why does this place look familiar?”
No, it was more than just familiar. The ground paved with dark tiles, a house with an ornately carved door, an ancient tree peeking over the wall, snaking ivy… Wasn’t this where Xue Xian had woken up earlier? So Xuanmin had taken him around and around, only to end up back at their original location?!
Xuanmin shook his head. “That place was fake. This is the real location.”
Fine, Xue Xian thought, glancing sidelong at Xuanmin, since he knows the Eight Gates well, he shouldn’t have made any major mistakes in his calculations. I’ll guess I’ll accept whatever he says…for now.
Xue Xian watched as Xuanmin stepped through the narrow doorway and made his way to the vacant building. “What’s the use of finding the real location anyway?”
“This is the Life Gate,” Xuanmin said. “By leaving through here, we can break the array.”
Xue Xian was about to speak when, unexpectedly, he heard voices coming from the empty room—voices that shouldn’t have been there. Xuanmin immediately froze, pivoting on his toes to stealthily conceal himself behind a pillar, the paper figure still perched on his shoulder.
Why were there people here?