A house stood there, its door marked with the seal's insignia. Han Jun walked in. The sound of his steps echoed in the entrance hall.
The wind howled through the doors and windows, a dirge carrying the scent of ash and forgotten prayers. A figure emerged from the mist, cloaked in black. His steps were slow and deliberate, each movement a negotiation with pain.
The clanging of chains, rubbing against the floor, made him stop. Han Jun could feel Xue Wuheng's breath in the shadows.
"I never thought you would ever come to see me," Xue Wuheng's voice was a dry whisper.
Han Jun clenched his jaw, suppressing his rage. Xue Wuheng walked slowly around him, the chains following, a rhythmic sound in the silence.
"How long has it been?" Xue Wuheng asked, the question slow and deliberate. "A hundred... two hundred years?"
"Two thousand years," Han Jun said, his voice flat.
Xue Wuheng faced him. "Time seems to move slowly here... junior brother." Han Jun finally got to see him.
