Xiuying's surroundings buzzed past, but the tree right ahead of his path stood still, waiting for his arrival.
He smashed right onto the trunk and fell on his back. The golden cloud that had smashed the tree along with him dispersed completely, now nowhere to be found.
The young monk, sprawled on the forest floor, let out a wry smile as though mocking himself. He was covered in scars now, mostly shallow, but still.
The forest was quite a sight to admire, though. Lines of pale sunlight penetrated through the leaves, leaving irregular shadows that danced on the forest floor along with the gentle breeze that came along.
It was filled with silence; silence punctuated only by his own thumping heartbeat, and sometimes, although rarely, the shrill mating calls of cicadas.
It was oddly peaceful for all that had happened, just like how it was in the temple. He had to savor this moment—this peace.
Because his journey would be filled with everything but.
It was safe to assume that he already had pursuers. The righteous and demonic were already on his tail, and he had not even started his journey.
Resolving himself, Xiuying sat up, scanning around to look for the cloth-wrapped package he had failed to grasp onto.
It was to his right, he saw, laying there, sprawling like he was, similarly wretched. The knot tying it together had slipped open, letting the contents drip out.
He stretched his hand for the package and scrambled the contents. There were a few things inside; things Monk Yazu prepared for his journey, he supposed.
First was a curved sedge hat, the ones monks would regularly wear. Then a dark-blue monk's robe, and finally a wooden walking stick. He did not understand how such a long stick could fit inside, but if it was Monk Yazu…
There was also a book inside, wrapped in white cloth on which words were written in rough handwriting.
"Sky King cultivation manual?" he muttered to himself, slightly perplexed. The young monk took the book and gently unwrapped the cloth. Inside was a dark-blue-colored cultivation manual. He flicked the pages and skimmed them before nodding to himself.
It was a regular cultivation manual, nothing about it being remarkable. It was nothing special. It was not part of the Divine Order's holy arts too. Monk Yazu knew better than anyone how terrible Xiuying's affinity was with holy arts.
He looked inside the bag again and found a jade seal; engraved on it was the image of a three-headed roc. It seemed a little out of place, but Monk Yazu would not have given him something useless.
He pocketed it inside the dark-blue robe he had yet to wear, treating it like some treasure. Although now it seemed useless, it may give him great help later on.
Other than that, the package was empty. He had hoped that he would be given some water...but he could get some himself.
"There was a village…" he said to himself. He turned back towards the tree he had smashed onto.
The fumes of smoke that he had seen earlier were slightly right of himself earlier, and he did not—and could not—change direction while flying. "It must be slightly to the right of this tree, then."
Xiuying first took off the torn robes he was wearing and switched to the dark-blue robe Monk Yazu had given him. He took the Sky King cultivation manual and pocketed it inside his new robe.
Then, he put on the curved sedge hat. It covered the upper part of his face in shadow, leaving only the bottom of his nose and his lips visible along with his chin.
Finally grabbing the walking stick, the young monk looked as though he would leave before suddenly stopping in his tracks. "What a fool! The Ten-Thousand-Deaths sutra!" he said in self-deprecation.
Crouching again, he took the eerie-looking black book with glowing runes and pocketed it inside the deepest parts of his robes. If there was one thing he could not lose, it would be the sutra.
If it falls into the hands of evildoers then…
The young monk shook his head and scuttled off into the wild, reminding himself in his head of his given task.
He walked through the forest breezily, no hindrances interrupting; no enemies and no wild animals going after his head.
Not yet, at least.
Trunks passed by as he trotted through. It was forest everywhere he looked, pillars of wood disappearing in every direction. There was some mist too, quite gentle, making everything in the distance appear white, but nothing else besides that.
A few minutes passed, or perhaps an hour. He did not know.
Xiuying's walk had gone pretty well, the only problem being the fact that he did not know whether he was going in the right direction.
Perhaps he had gone straight past the village because he walked at an incorrect angle. If such a thing did happen, then he truly did not know where he was going now. He would not know.
Leaves crunched under his uncertain steps. Then in the distance appeared a slouched silhouette. It was shaped like a four-legged animal, perhaps a tiger.
It shifted.
Xiuying could feel the creature's gaze from a distance, eyeing him like one would eye a prey.
Then the ominous silhouette shifted forth, towards his direction, he supposed, because it got larger. It had its head lowered slightly, its bosom, striped orange, black and white, jiggling.
Now he knew it was a tiger, and a starved one, at that. It was quite skinny, its ribs poking through visible even from afar.
Its yellow eyes searched Xiuying with caution. "I mean no harm," he said gently. He was not a fool, and he knew that an animal could not understand words; he meant for the tiger to drop its guard through his gentle demeanor.
But to that the tiger only stared some more, its eyes still cautious. It continued for ten more seconds, eyes plastered onto the young monk before suddenly sprinting off.
Xiuying winced. He would have preferred it if the tiger kept within his vision.
The young monk continued his journey with even more caution. At every odd sound, he would turn his head. Bushes would sometimes shake, and he would tighten the grasp on his stick, even if it was a mere squirrel passing.
He even jumped at his own shadow at some point.
But other than that, the journey was unexpectedly smooth. The tiger did not come again. Perhaps it was because he was a monk, or perhaps it could sense the sutra and be fearful…
He did not know, but he was glad.
Five hours passed since he landed in the forest, and he still had not seen the village. Not even so much as a glimpse. Now he was almost certain he had passed it.
But then, he saw smoke. Pillars of grey of smoke—the ones he had seen earlier. His eyes widened.
The village was near.
The young monk enthusiastically approached the village, half running and half walking. He wanted to run, but he could not, lest he startle the animals. If that tiger appeared as he was running, it might get the wrong idea...
Right ahead, the forest ended. It was a small cliff. Right ahead was a small village--one seemingly able to fit a little more than two hundred people-- walled in by short wooden fences which Xiuying supposed were meant for animals.
They were not tall enough to block men, and this fact alone told the young monk that this area was isolated from the rest of the world.
The buildings themselves were wooden, suspended over the ground by thin pillars, and then topped by yellow-brown hay to emulate roofs. Small chimneys were built onto these houses, coming out of which were the fumes of smoke he had seen earlier