The monk was silent for a few seconds, then said, "You could say that."
"What exactly is that thing?" Sun Hang leaned closer, "Could you tell ?"
"Human desire," the monk said.
"What?" Sun Hang frowned.
"Materialized desire," the monk answered, "When you see it, you’ll naturally understand... But I still hope that before then, you choose to leave this place."
On the monk, Sun Hang slled a faint musty odor, like the dusty mildew scent that wafts out from a long-sealed bookshelf when opened.
It wasn’t unpleasant, but it brought a sense of distance as if from another world.
Sun Hang increasingly felt that this monk was like a walking human-shaped antique, or rather, the impression he left on Sun Hang was more like that of an undead creature that normally lay asleep in a tomb, occasionally rising to roam about.
But there was no trace of the supernatural on the monk; he had a heartbeat, a pulse, he could breathe, and blood flowed through the veins under his skin — none of these traits aligned with any of Sun Hang’s guesses about his true identity. There was a mont when Sun Hang even thought of pinning the monk down and cutting him open to study his anatomy closely.
The four of them gradually approached Nanhua Town, and every so often, the monk would stop and rhythmically tap the ground a few tis with the stick in his hand before continuing on.
Each pause would cause a subtle shift in the direction of their path.
At first, Sun Hang thought the monk’s tapping was a way to detect traps, but as he collected more data samples, Sun Hang found that the force and frequency of the monk’s tapping were always identical, and the sound it made had no discernible pattern.
Could it actually be so sort of ritual?
Without a word, Sun Hang summoned three Fungus Puppets, directing them to walk in different directions.
However, even when they reached the limits of Sun Hang’s control range, the Fungus Puppets encountered no anomalies, so Sun Hang had to call them back.
"Could you tell what you’re doing when you keep tapping the ground?" Sun Hang asked, "You seem to have strong legs, you don’t look like you need a cane."
"To prevent myself from forgetting more," the monk said calmly, "I’ve forgotten too many things... but so things must not be forgotten. To rember them, I invented a thod of using the rhythm of my steps and the frequency of my tapping to aid my mory... My brain might forget, but over the years, my body will always rember these things..."
"Using muscle mory to replace brain mory?" Candle Dragon’s expression was sowhat odd, "You’ve created a system of codes based on your steps and tapping frequency, then forced your body to morize these codes containing important information... so your brain can forget the information, needing only to rember how to interpret the codes... Is that it?"
"Yes," the monk stopped again, gently tapping the ground with his stick, "Every so often, I revisit those mories using this thod... I’ve found that these mories beco more and more unfamiliar, as if they happened to soone else."
"Do those mories include your past?" Candle Dragon asked.
"Yes," the monk replied, "But I’m unwilling to interpret them... I only need to know that my body rembers those things, and that’s enough."
"Do those mories cause you pain?"
The monk glanced at Candle Dragon and shook his head: "All beings endure suffering, and if it were simply pain, I wouldn’t avoid recalling it... but what I fear is sothing else."
"For instance?"
"Those mories may slowly consu my humanity, and when I completely lose my humanity, perhaps I can no longer be considered human," the monk said, "Right now I retain a shred of humanity, which is why I advise you to leave, why I urge you not to continue seeking that thing... but if I utterly lose my humanity, perhaps I will beco a thrall of that thing, leading one poor soul after another, driven by desire, to it."
"That thing, is it a supernatural object?" Candle Dragon asked.
"I’m not sure, I know very little about it," the monk said.
"Then why did you co out to guide us... is that thing controlling your actions?" A hint of vigilance flickered in Candle Dragon’s eyes.
The monk didn’t answer this question, which Sun Hang and the others took as tacit confirmation.
Sun Hang exchanged a glance with Candle Dragon, the latter’s eyes carried a questioning look, the forr shook his head and whispered, "No rush, let’s see where he takes us."
The monk led the three into the ruins, walking along a road almost rged with the desert for dozens of ters, then stopping in front of so remnants of walls.
He squatted down, felt around on the remnants for a long ti, moving slightly as he searched, finally stopping under a window fra, of which only the lower half remained.
Sun Hang noticed that beneath the window fra, the wall had several holes penetrating through it, appearing to be left by bullets, and there were faint traces of dark brown on the wall surface.
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