Even Guo Jing, veteran of every kind of storm, felt a prickle of alarm at that.
But this was no time for pleasantries—the leader of the Quanzhen delegation was missing...
"Taoist Master Li, what exactly happened? How could Taoist Master Yin go missing?"
Guo Jing pressed anxiously.
The Quanzhen Sect had come to help defend the city. If something happened to their people, Guo Jing felt the responsibility fell partly on him.
To say nothing of his ties to the sect—if he could help, duty left no room for refusal.
"Brother Jing, let the Taoist Masters inside first. Too many eyes and ears out here."
Guo Jing's way with people was not the smoothest, his thinking not the most thorough; thankfully Huang Rong was there to catch what he missed.
This was plainly not a conversation for the open street.
If word of this got out, complications would breed on their own.
"Yes, of course—please, everyone, come in. We'll speak inside."
Guo Jing caught up with himself and led Li Zhichang's party to an inner room.
Once everyone was seated, Li Zhichang told the story from the beginning.
"We encountered Ouyang Feng. He mistook Senior Brother Yin for Ouyang Ke, and Senior Brother drew him away alone. He has been missing since."
"Ouyang Feng?!"
Guo Jing and Huang Rong cried out together.
It had simply been so long since anyone had word of Ouyang Feng.
Since going mad, the man drifted like weather—appearing here and there, never lingering.
Huang Rong, for her part, would have been delighted to learn Ouyang Feng had died in some nameless ditch. When it came to Ouyang Feng, her hatred had no ceiling—only new floors.
But this changed things. Yin Zhiping—future Sect Leader of the Quanzhen Sect—in Ouyang Feng's clutches. This was thorny.
"Yes. Senior Brother Yin agreed to regroup with us at Xiangyang, so we traveled day and night, hoping he might have arrived ahead of us."
It was then that the sharp-eyed Huang Rong noticed something odd about Li Zhichang and his brothers: they looked worried—and yet somehow not that worried...
Curious. But she kept it to herself.
"Taoist Master Yin should not have reached Xiangyang yet. If Ouyang Feng were inside the city, he would certainly have been spotted."
Foot traffic into Xiangyang was light these days. Those who meant to help had long since come, and the city had ruled: entry, but no exit.
All of Xiangyang lay under the Beggars' Sect's watch, commanded by Elder Lu Youjiao.
A mad Ouyang Feng was not a man to slip in quietly and sit still. He would make noise.
And the smallest noise could not escape the Beggars' Sect's eyes and ears.
So Guo Jing was certain: Yin Zhiping and Ouyang Feng were not in Xiangyang.
Worry shadowed Li Zhichang's face. He had braced himself for this, but hearing it confirmed still hollowed him out a little.
That was Ouyang Feng out there.
"Hero Guo, we ask that you watch for any trace of Senior Brother Yin. He wears white robes and carries a three-chi sword of green steel. We will paint his likeness for you shortly."
There was nothing else they could do now. The rest was in heaven's hands.
"Rest easy. I will have the Beggars' Sect disciples keep watch."
Huang Rong was glad to help with this much. By feeling or by principle, they could not simply do nothing.
But the great enemy stood at the gate—the Mongol cavalry would reach Xiangyang's walls any day now. Against the defense of home and country, everything else shrank small. This was already all they could offer.
"Our thanks, Hero Guo, Chief Huang."
As leader in Yin Zhiping's absence, it was Li Zhichang who had carried the conversation with Guo Jing and Huang Rong from start to finish.
"You have all come a long way. Let me have someone show you to your rest."
Days and nights of hard travel had left Li Zhichang's party visibly worn; Guo Jing chose the moment to see them settled.
"Then we thank Hero Guo again."
Li Zhichang cupped his fist in thanks, and the group followed Guo Jing's man off toward the guest rooms.
Guo Jing and Huang Rong were quartered in what had been the City Lord's manor. The former City Lord had bolted at the first news of the Mongol advance; with no replacement named, Guo Jing had been asked to stand in.
Xiangyang was crowded with jianghu folk come to help, and even a manor that size could not hold them all—so only fighters of real name and standing were lodged there.
The Quanzhen Sect's name rang loud enough in the jianghu. They qualified without question.
After Li Zhichang's party withdrew, Guo Jing went on fretting about Ouyang Feng—while Huang Rong brought up the detail she had noticed.
"Brother Jing, did you see it? That Taoist Master Li is worried about Taoist Master Yin—and yet not so worried. As if he's certain that even with Ouyang Feng dogging him, Taoist Master Yin will arrive at Xiangyang safe and sound."
Guo Jing scratched his head and gave his wife a sheepish smile.
"Eh? Really? I didn't notice. But didn't they say Ouyang Feng took Taoist Master Yin for Ouyang Ke? Then he shouldn't harm Taoist Master Yin at all, should he?"
Reading the honest foolishness in her husband's eyes, Huang Rong huffed a fond, exasperated little huff. Wasn't this exact denseness what she'd fallen for?
If he weren't a bit of a fool, he'd never have won her heart!!!
And yet—he was right, wasn't he? Vicious as a tiger is, it doesn't eat its own cubs. As long as Ouyang Feng never realized his mistake, he would not harm this Senior Brother Yin.
She hadn't thought of that layer. Her Brother Jing had. Was this what they called great wisdom wearing a fool's face?
"Oh, that's right—didn't Taoist Master Qiu's letter promise a surprise? We forgot to ask just now."
Huang Rong let go of the question of whether her Brother Jing was wise or foolish, and remembered the surprise.
"No idea. We'll ask tomorrow. It's probably something to do with the defense."
***
At that very moment, the Taoist Master Yin in question was deep in a game of chase with Ouyang Feng.
Ouyang Feng had fixed on one truth: Yin Zhiping was his son. And so he clung.
Where Yin Zhiping went, Ouyang Feng neither asked nor cared. He simply followed.
Yin Zhiping kept to hill paths and forest tracks, far from settlements, and no one disturbed them.
Whenever they stopped to rest, he traded a few passes with Ouyang Feng.
His progress by now was enormous. By Ouyang Feng's own account, even going all out, he could suppress Yin Zhiping—but not take him down.
Yin Zhiping was privately delighted. That was recognition, from Ouyang Feng himself.
Emboldened, he asked outright: "Then if I truly meant to run—could you catch me?"
Ouyang Feng erupted—howling, stamping in place, eyes bulging huge, his disordered white hair lifting with no wind to lift it.
"Son, you can't outrun me! Your father will follow you to the edge of the sky and the corners of the sea! Your father will protect you your whole life!"
Through all these days together, mad as he remained, Ouyang Feng had been nothing but wholehearted toward Yin Zhiping. He truly did treat him as his son.
Anyone else might have hardened their neck and simply accepted the father. Hadn't Yang Guo done exactly that, in the original story?
But Yin Zhiping's Tao-heart stood firm. Ouyang Feng treated him well—he could feel it, honestly.
But had Qiu Chuji treated him poorly?
Weighed against each other, twenty years of his teacher's kindness still came first.
"Fine—follow if you like. All these days you've sparred with me, and I've kept you fed and housed. Fair exchange, both sides even. And one more time: I am really not your son. My father died twenty years ago. He died to bandits."