"How are your wounds?" asked Qing Lai. Zhi Cheng closed the clay jug he had just filled. What wounds? He almost asked aloud. Most of them had already closed again, even the deep cut on his hip was already fading. Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than necessary, he just waved it off.
"I'm not bothered by minor injuries. I've got a thing or two up my sleeve too!"
"I've seen that, which sect did you learn in?" asked Qing Lai. Zhi Cheng took notice. Was that naive bastard interrogating him right now?
He looked up. Qing Lai's shining golden eyes met his scarlet ones. They didn't blink, just faced each other. Zhi Cheng tensed up. Suddenly, the naive lad had faded into the background. Qing Lai's gaze was vigilant, watching the Spirit King's every move.
Zhi Cheng gritted his teeth, had he been too careless? What should he say? All the schools and sects he knew from his time as a living mortal were surely history long ago, and if he mentioned one that was too well known, Qing Lai would get suspicious, wouldn't he? He laughed.
''Not everyone is lucky enough to be raised by a school or sect, Brother Qing. Let alone being trained by the royal court. I joined one group or another, occasionally learned something and made something of my life," he evaded.
Qing Lai's expression softened like someone who didn't know how to justify his privileged life.
''Gotcha, you little bastard, don't eavesdrop on me again, you little son of a bitch. That's why you don't share personal information with everyone.
On the way back, Qing Lai looked dejected and didn't question Zhi Cheng further. The Ghost King relaxed a little and maintained his strategy of staying on the sidelines.
At times, he helped Qing Lai change the bandages, handed him medicine and assisted him.
The days passed agonizingly slowly; he hated the women's exuberant mood. They talked animatedly and had begun to embroider the fabric. The fear of their boss seemed to have vanished.
Yi Fang fen prepared more steamed buns with her maids and Zhi Cheng was sure to have enough for another three lifetimes. When the evening dawned, Qing Lai sat down at the edge of the cave again and began to fall into a meditative state. After a while, Zhi Cheng joined him. Qing Lai did not open his eyes, but Zhi Cheng noticed from his breathing that he had focused his attention on him. Zhi Cheng sat down next to him and slowly fanned himself.
"I'm sorry," Qing Lai apologized. "You made a different impression on me."
"Like what?" Zhi Cheng asked back.
"Of a scholar from the nobility, well-versed in martial arts, knowledge, calligraphy and the pleasant things in life. Your movements are not like the coarse, angry flailing of street groups," he said. Zhi Cheng thought for a moment, Qing Lai was more attentive than expected.
"I grew up in the nobility, fell low and fought my way back. If you don't mind, Brother Qing, I'd like to keep my life story to myself," he evaded.
At least that wasn't a lie. When he was still a mortal, he had been a member of a great royal house, a prince. He had owned everything and had everyone at his feet, but the peace did not last long.
War and evil ravaged his country and in the end he ended up in Duifang and fought his way up to become the Ghost King. Qing Lai had opened his eyes and looked at him.
"Sounds like an eventful life," he said. Zhi Cheng shrugged his shoulders.
"I prefer it quieter. I want to wander the world on my own, without the stress of having to look after subordinates. The only person I care about is me," he replied unconcernedly. Qing Lai tilted his head and seemed to ponder his words.
"I think with power and strength and a certain amount of intelligence, you have a certain duty and responsibility to help other people. Not everyone has access to education and their own free opinion. Everyone can do no more than make the best of what they have," he said quietly.
"Others are better at it, others are not. Some take what they deserve, others are too weak. If you only ever show consideration for others, how can you develop your own full strength?" Zhi Cheng asked back. He certainly hadn't survived for eight hundred years with consideration and benevolence.
"Full strength?" echoed Qing Lai, his gaze wandering a little for a moment before he caught himself again.
"My strength is not in battle," he then replied more composedly. Zhi Cheng raised a brow as Qing Lai closed his eyes again and meditated.
To kill one's opponents and enemies, one certainly needed strength and battle experience. But the combat experience that Qing Lai had demonstrated was to leave his opponents alive, only to incapacitate them and play them off against each other.
This required far more experience and strength than a simple kill. His strength certainly did not lie in pacifism, but Zhi Cheng did not ask any further questions.
It was dangerous for him to associate with Qing Lai any longer, anyone who had contacts with the imperial army could certainly get in touch with the personal assassin of the Celestial Emperor himself. The White Death.
No one who had ever seen his true face was still alive. During the riots and wars to seize and consolidate the power of the current ruler Wang Cheng Hui, White Death had been a warrior that one did not want to meet on the battlefield.
He had fought entire battles on his own and had brought established generals to their knees with his name alone. Some said he was an immortal cultist, others said he was the best martial artist of all time. No matter what he was, Zhi Cheng was sure he would never want to meet him.
Of all the ifs and buts in this world, the White Death was a real, serious threat to his life.
Since the Emperor's coronation five years ago, he had disappeared from the scene. It was as if he lived and existed solely for war and bloodshed.
Zhi Cheng rubbed his forehead, his covered ghost mark tingling. The make-up was beginning to crumble, he had to get out of this situation quickly. If Qing Lai was right, reinforcements would show up within the next few days to smooth their way out of this forest.
He leaned against the rock and closed his eyes. The peace and quiet were deceptive. Zhi Cheng was used to chaos. Either he ignited it or it haunted him. The feeling of peace made him nervous, which inevitably meant trouble.