Chapter 66: The Grace of the Swordsman
This was the first thunder peal of the year.
“Rumble...”
Spring thunder rolled continuously. It sounded like a giant stone roller was moving across the sky.
The swordsman's brow furrowed tighter as he glanced several times at the coffin behind him, then at the Daoist standing at the doorway.
The Daoist wasn't old, seemingly about the same age as him, though he appeared much younger.
In front of him was a fire, kept burning small apparently to save firewood. He had a bamboo staff and a bedding bag full of belongings. A cloth bag was sewn onto the bedding bag. It contained a calico cat, which the swordsman had seen a few days ago at the Great Liujiang Gathering. The cat was pretty and poked its head out of the cloth bag at that moment, tilting its head and staring straight at him.
He had known for a few days that this Daoist was no ordinary person.
When he entered the door earlier, although the sky was very dark, he vaguely saw a swallow in the nest under the eaves. There had also been a swallow in the sky these few days, a rare sight for this season.
At that moment, he saw the Daoist reach into his bedding bag as if to take something out.