838 Indifference (2/2)

The Headmaster had left the mortal world.

Old Master Cui started to leave his name in history. But he still feared. Especially every night, when he looked at the moon shining over Fuchun River; he was so terrified he could not fall asleep.

Monk Guan Hai and Wudao left on a boat in the night. They would head straight to the West-Hill to participate in the Light Sacrifice organized by the Divine Hall. Wudao might attain an opportunity on their way there, arising from the bloody night, and leave.

Wang Jinglue wore his straw hat and disappeared inside Yangzhou City. Other than Ning Que, no one knew that he was once here, and no one knew where he was hiding or what he was preparing to do.

Zhong Da Jun had died and Qinghe County was uneasy. The manors by Fuchun River started to fear. Ning Que had done what he wanted to and left Qinghe, arriving at the Great Lake.

It was an extremely ordinary passenger ship. Compared to the South Jin Kingdom navy fleets that were patrolling the Great Lake, it was miserably small. The ship would shake badly when it encountered slightly larger than usual waves.

The passenger ship moved very slowly and needed two days to travel through the Great Lake. The people who took the ship were naturally ordinary folks who did not have money. The wide and endless Great Lake, the lake view that grew boring rapidly and the bad smelling cabin that they could not escape from made the already numb people even more so. There were only the sounds of occasional retching that identified that these people were alive.

Ning Que sat at the end of the ship. He did not enter the cabin to squeeze with the others for a sleeping place. The two-day journey was not difficult for him. And if he had not been afraid that he'd call attention upon himself, he would not even eat.

The wind was strong and humid. Ning Que sat at the end of the ship and watched the white froth on the lake's surface. He did not feel like reciting poetry, and only thought of other things silently.

His Psyche Power was sensing between heaven and earth. He did not want to startle the cultivators in the South Jin navy, and his psyche power was precisely controlled on the lake behind the ship while some part fell into the lake.

On that snowy day, he wrote the word in the snowy street and cut tens of millions of times. From that moment on, not even the Drunkard or the Butcher dared to enter Chang'an.

However, he could not be forever trapped in the city of sorrows. He did not wish to become a prisoner in Chang'an. He knew that he had to leave, especially after the news from the Peach Mountain had spread.

If the world knew that he had left Chang'an, the future that welcomed him would be endless assassinations. He might even see that flagon waving in the wind on the boat the very next moment.

He needed to be able to write that character outside of Chang'an as well.

However, the people in the world are just as numb as the passengers on the ship. Faced with the inescapable, they choose to accept with silence. Who would travel with him?

If there was no one who could travel with him, how would he be able to write the character 'people'?

Ning Que looked at gulls on the lake, his right hand holding the blade of his iron cutlass. He considered the question silently from day to night, continuing until the morning light turned the lake into a fish belly.

But he still did not receive an answer.