The moon was a sharp, silver sickle in the sky, casting long, deep shadows across the quiet peaks. Ye Xingliu found Old Drunkard Huo exactly where he expected: sprawled on his back atop a flat, windswept rock, his personal viewing spot for the heavens. The empty gourd, his constant companion, lay beside him like a fallen comrade.
"Master Huo," Ye Xingliu greeted, sitting down cross-legged beside him.
Huo didn't look at him. His eyes were fixed on the cosmos, but they seemed to be looking through it, at something vastly more distant and infinitely more terrifying.
"They're watching, you know," Huo slurred, his voice thick with wine and something else—a weary, ancient knowledge. "The old ones. The ones who laid the first stones of the road you walk."
Ye Xingliu followed his gaze, the star map in his compass seeming to resonate with the words. "The ones who made the compass?"
"Hmph. Maybe. Or the ones who broke it." Huo took a swig from a seemingly inexhaustible reserve of liquor hidden in his sleeve. "The road is infinite, kid. But travelers? We're finite. Fragile." He finally turned his head, his bleary eyes sharpening with a sudden, unnerving clarity. "Your road... it doesn't end in some cozy celestial palace. It doesn't end with you becoming a prim and proper immortal king."
He pointed a trembling, grimy finger straight up at the darkest, most empty patch of sky between the bright constellations.
"It ends out there," he whispered, the words carrying a chilling finality. "Where the stars themselves fear to shine. In the quiet places. The hungry voids. That's where your 'Wanderlust' will finally lead you. To the edge of everything, with nothing but your own stubborn heart to light the way."
A profound silence fell between them, broken only by the sigh of the wind. It wasn't a warning meant to deter; it was a prophecy, a true seeing delivered through a haze of alcohol.
Then, just as suddenly as the moment had arrived, it passed. Huo grunted, sat up, and belched. "But that's a problem for another day. A thousand years from now, maybe. For now..." He fumbled at his belt and untied the dark red gourd that had never left his side. He tossed it to Ye Xingliu.
Ye Xingliu caught it. It was warm from the old man's body heat.
"It's empty," Huo said, lying back down and closing his eyes, clearly done with the conversation. "And it's full. You'll figure it out. Don't lose it. It's older than your compass."
Puzzled, Ye Xingliu uncorked the gourd. He peered inside. Darkness. He tilted it. Nothing came out. He focused his will, thinking of his small stash of spirit stones back in his cave.
A silvery light shimmered inside the gourd's opening. In his mind's eye, he could suddenly see a small, pocket-sized space, about the volume of a large trunk. And sitting inside it, neat and clear, were his spirit stones.
Spatial storage.
It wasn't just a wine gourd. It was the Gourd of Endless Wine, a treasure beyond price. A piece of home he could carry with him to the ends of the universe.
Ye Xingliu looked from the priceless spatial treasure in his hands to the snoring, ragged form of his master. A wave of profound gratitude, mixed with the thrilling terror of the prophecy, washed over him.
He carefully re-corked the gourd and tied it securely to his own belt.
"Best master ever," he whispered to the sleeping drunkard, a wide, heartfelt grin spreading across his face.
The road might end in a starless void, but at least he'd have a good drink for the journey.
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