Chapter 7. A slightly open secret dialogue.

The heir of the Wuya sect proved to be a reserved young man, his preference for observation and silence mirroring that of Elder Gufu himself. Thus, their journey to the main hall unfolded in quietude, punctuated only by the soft padding of their footsteps upon the winding amethyst stone paths, which emitted a chilling aura that contrasted starkly with the bright, sweltering weather of the Ghost Palace.

 Distant stars twinkled in the sky above, while airborne candles cast flickering light every few paces, guiding their way through the labyrinthine paths.

It felt as though the entire palace had been swallowed by oblivion, devoid of any remnants of its once bustling vitality. Towering trees swayed in harmony with the wind, shedding leaves the size of a child's palm. With their vibrant green hue, the leaves drifted gracefully to the ground, leaving the road beneath devoid of even a speck of dust.

"How much farther?" Gald finally broke the silence, his weary form blending seamlessly into the ethereal atmosphere. If only an artist from Mount Tian were present, they would surely have immortalized him on the highest-quality canvas.

Elder Gufu responded with a delay, his gaze fixed on the falling foliage, his voice devoid of warmth. "Just a few more turns. I hadn't anticipated you wandering so far." 

Before he could finish his sentence, however, the old man's attention was drawn to the next cascade of foliage descending to the ground.

Gald furrowed his brow, sensing that the sect's intentions had been laid bare before this cunning old fox. Yet, he chose not to engage, silently signaling his disinterest in the topic at hand.

"You'd be wise to refrain from seeking proximity to the matriarch of our clan again," Gufu's weathered eyes bore into Gald's with unwavering intensity this time, "for if you test our patience, you will incur our wrath."

The wind tousled the long edges of Gufu's robes, giving his silhouette an ethereal, almost ghostly appearance.

"I understand," Gald replied tersely, choosing to avoid any further confrontation. He knew that unnecessary movements now could spell trouble in the future. "The hero from the prophecies, what's his name?"

Sensing Gald's desire to steer the conversation away from their previous topic, Gufu continued his stride with indifference.

"He will be bestowed with a name at dawn tomorrow," the elder remarked. "The first day in this world is fraught with surprises, hence why we have chosen to uphold this age-old tradition."

Pausing momentarily, Gald then resumed walking with measured steps.

"An age-old tradition? What does it entail?" he inquired.

"All will be revealed tomorrow, should you choose to remain for another day," Gufu replied cryptically.

Gald bit his lower lip, a flicker of concern evident on his youthful features. A flicker of panic dancing across his youthful features as if his carefully laid plans teetered on the brink of collapse.

"Elder, forgive my impudence, but may I pose a question?" Gald ventured, as they approached another turn in the path.

"Ask, and I shall provide answers to the best of my knowledge," Gufu replied firmly, slowing his pace to accommodate Gald's inquiry.

"Is the chosen hero truly a child of prophecy?" Gald's voice held a note of skepticism as he fixed his gaze on the elder's back.

Gufu continued walking, his voice carrying an air of mystery in the windy night. "His birth occurred at the appointed time and place, did it not?"

Though Gald couldn't see Gufu's face, he could sense a smile in the elder's response. However, it left him with a sense of ambiguity and incompleteness.

Regaining his composure, Gald looked up to see an open stone doorway ahead, bathed in warm light and echoing with distant prayers and drum music.