Zhou Zishu startled, realising that he was right, it was a rather long journey. Thus, Zhang Chengling brought trouble upon himself: because he had asked a question that he should not have asked, he was tortured in a multitude of ways by his evil shifu Zhou Zishu for the rest of the journey. Sometimes, he was made to reverse his flow of qi and walk on his hands; other times, Zhou Zishu pressed a hand down onto his shoulder, ordering that teenager to strenuously hurry his way forth with all the energy he had, almost as if he were bearing a load as heavy as that of a enormous mountain…it was worse than death.

Off to one side, Wen Kexing didn’t speak. He kept loudly cracking his walnuts open and snacking on them, disgusting Zhou Zishu while appearing to be thoughtfully contemplating an issue at the same time. Seeing that Zhou Zishu was ignoring the old mule Ye Baiyi, he made rare conversation with Ye Baiyi. “How are you...related to Rong Xuan? Why do you want to know what happened thirty years ago?”

Ye Baiyi looked at him, and remained silent for a long while. Just when Wen Kexing thought that he was about to say something, he heard that bird's beak of Zhou Zishu peck its nonsense, "Why do you want to ask about everyone’s business, like those old maids who love to gossip? What does that have to do with you?"

Wen Kexing exerted force on his fingers, and a walnut shell splintered in his hand. Like a hidden weapon, the pieces shot out about a zhang out, bringing with them a strong gust of wind. Zhang Chengling instantly ducked away as far as he could to save himself from getting embroiled in danger[13].

Wen Kexing was about to snipe at him for a few lines more, but a glimmer caught his eye. Focusing his gaze, he discovered a surprising strand of silver among Ye Baiyi's long hair, and he noted incredulously, "Hm? Ye, you're greying."

He did not know if it was just his imagination, but in that instant, Ye Baiyi's wooden pupils seemed to flash, so fleetingly that it was imperceptible. Subconsciously, he raised a hand to touch his own hair, but halfway to his head, he put it down again, and only said indifferently, "Have you not even seen white hair before? An ignorant person would find everything strange.”

Wen Kexing thought about it. True, this old freak was ancient; if this was any other person, their remains would have grown cold by now. What was a strand of white?