The small island only looked small from a distance. When the boat approached closer, the island seemed to stretch endlessly beyond the horizon.
The boat eventually docked on a sandy stretch of beach.
Fu Yiran helped Sikong Yan off the boat and their feet sank into the soft sand. Sikong Yan glanced back and saw Eighth Brother rowing away. The trusty wooden boat disappeared into the sea mist.
In the distance, the seabirds that followed them from the mainland called out one last time as they swooped into the forest, vanishing from sight.
In the visible distance, a faint path extended from the beach toward the distant forest. The trees ahead cast shifting shadows, obscuring any clear view of what lay within.
Sikong Yan seemed still groggy from his nap aboard the boat. He rubbed his forehead and impatiently said, "Let’s go. There’s a long way ahead."
Fu Yiran nodded, picked up their luggage, and walked ahead.
They made their way through the winding forest path. Occasional shafts of light piercing through the dense canopy, that only deepened the gloomy eeriness of the shadowy path. Despite the secluded setting, the path they took was neither messy nor slippery. The stone steps had been cleared of weeds, fallen leaves, and moss; they were clearly kept clean by regular upkeep.
After walking a bit further, they noticed a faint rustling sound. They approached without stopping and saw a one-legged old man sweeping the stony path.
The old man glanced at them briefly as they passed. It wasn’t until they were shoulder-to-shoulder that he suddenly rasped, "Sand Scourer, you’ll meet a terrible end."
Fu Yiran’s lips curled into a cold sneer, but he walked past and ignored the old man. Sikong Yan frowned slightly and glanced at the sweeper before he continued walking.
After they had walked a distance, Sikong Yan softly asked, "Who was that man?"
"Lin Shubing. He used to be the adjudicator for the Ghostbane Association," Fu Yiran said with a sneer. "Heaven-Rankers had to receive his approval before they were issued their tokens."
Sikong Yan closed his eyes in thought, then shook his head. "The name sounds familiar, but I don’t recall much about him."
Fu Yiran smiled faintly. "You were occupied with important matters, it’s natural to forget such an insignificant person. However, you’d surely remember him if I mentioned another person."
"Who?" Sikong Yan asked, casting a sidelong glance at Fu Yiran.
Fu Yiran grinned. "The former sectmaster of the Ghostbane Association, Yan Zhen’gui."
Sikong Yan furrowed his brow. "I remember now. Yan Zhen’gui had a half-brother, from the same mother but a different father—that was Lin Shubing, correct?"
"Exactly." Fu Yiran bowed respectfully. "Back then, when Yan Zhen’gui perished at the main headquarters, Lin Shubing refused to surrender. He was about to bash his own head in at the Execution Hall, but I managed to stop him and capture him alive.
"Master spared his life and ordered that he be confined to this island and tasked him with sweeping the stone steps year-round. Heh, I worried he might try to escape, so I went ahead and crippled one of his legs."
Sikong Yan rolled his eyes at the old man. "The island is surrounded by the deep sea. Without someone from the Ghostbane Association ferrying him, where could he possibly go?"
Fu Yiran scratched the back of his head and chuckled sheepishly. "Your words are the same as the Old Master's back then. It seems I was a fool for going to such unnecessary lengths."
"Do you know why he cursed at you earlier?"
"He probably still holds a grudge because of his leg."
"Is that so? Then why didn't he try anything?"
"He won't unless he has a death wish."
"So you let him hate you?"
"Let him do as he pleases. He’s just a cripple..."
As they spoke, the path beneath their feet grew steeper, leading them higher and higher.
When they emerged from the forest, they realized they had reached the mountainside. Looking back, Sikong Yan could see the entirety of the shore below. The salty sea breeze brushed against his face and made his robes flutter.
Turning back, Sikong Yan’s expression grew puzzled. He pointed to a simple thatched hut on the mountainside a short distance away and asked, "Does someone live there?"
Fu Yiran followed his gaze and replied, "That should be where Lin Shubing lives."
There was only a single path up the rest of the mountain. As they walked and talked, they soon reached the hut. It was little more than a simple thatched shelter. Beside it was a small vegetable garden with wilted greens. Not far from the garden stood a crude gravestone. The clumsy carving of the epitaph made it clear that it was the work of an unskilled hand.
"Honored Brother... Yan Zhen’gui’s Tomb," Sikong Yan murmured, reading the words on the gravestone.
The area around the gravestone was meticulously clean; there was not a single weed in sight.
"It’s just a cenotaph," Fu Yiran said, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the gravestone, lost in thought. "Back then, Yan Zhen’gui was hacked into pieces and fed to dogs. Finding any part of him now would be a miracle."
Sikong Yan cast a sidelong glance at him. "Was that your doing as well?"
Fu Yiran chuckled darkly. "Old Master trusted me. After Yan Zhen’gui was chopped into mincemeat, it took three large sacks to hold what was left of him. It took the dogs two whole days to finish him."
Sikong Yan nodded noncommittally and continued up the mountain.
Fu Yiran quickly caught up to him. As he reached Sikong Yan’s side, he suddenly heard him murmur, "You old dog... After all the filthy deeds you’ve done for my teacher, how did he let you live until now?"
These words sent a chill through Fu Yiran’s entire body.
"Young, young master," Fu Yiran stammered, "I’m loyal! You know that!"
Sikong Yan’s lips curled into a faint smile. "I know you’re loyal. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be alive."
Before Fu Yiran could breathe a sigh of relief, Sikong Yan said something that made his heart race.
"Old Fu," Sikong Yan said mockingly, "Do you really think... Lin Shubing cursed at you because he’s still holding a grudge?"
Fu Yiran froze in place.
Sikong Yan turned to look at Fu Yiran with a piercing gaze. "Or do you actually know the reason but pretend otherwise? Perhaps you just don’t want to think about it?"
"Young, young master..." Fu Yiran’s lips trembled slightly.
Sikong Yan’s eyes widened suddenly. "Back then, you were ranked among the top five in the Ghostbane Association, yet at the most critical moment, you defected to my teacher, turning your blade against your former comrades.
"Later... you infiltrated He Wenxian’s faction and led them into utter ruin during the final battle. I think Lin Shubing was confident in your fate not because of a grudge, but because you’ve done too many things that deserve divine retribution."
"No..." Seeing Sikong Yan’s terrifying gaze, Fu Yiran instinctively took a step back, shaking his head. "No! I did it all for the Old Master!"
Sikong Yan ignored his words, turning away to continue up the mountain. He laughed skyward. "Hahaha—Fu Yiran, Fu Yiran, you truly are a heinous villain. If you don’t meet retribution, then there’s no justice left in this world."
Fu Yiran ran forward and grabbed Sikong Yan, raving, "No! I did it all for the Old Master! It was for the Old Master!"
"Ha—" Sikong Yan shrugged off Fu Yiran’s grip and spat coldly, "Now I understand why my teacher kept you alive. Just like me, he must have wanted to see how you’d meet your miserable end."