Girlnju's expression hardened. "If Brother Girlnshi *truly* can't recover… then securing my place as the Tribe's heir should be a certainty." A flicker of grim satisfaction crossed his face. "My efforts over the years… deserve this reward."
Girlnli started, pulling on the reins of his horse as they walked. "Brother Girlnju? That was just talk before… you're not serious, are you?"
A cold smile played on Girlnju's lips. His right hand flashed, wreathed in a sickly yellow aura of Battle Qi. It struck Girlnli with pinpoint precision. The energy surged, instantly freezing Girlnli's meridians.
Girlnli's eyes widened in shock and betrayal, but it was too late to react. He looked at Girlnju, his brother and confidant, with utter incomprehension as his body went limp. He crashed to the dusty path outside the stone hut, paralyzed, conscious but mute. Stunned disbelief warred with fear in his gaze.
Girlnju surveyed his handiwork with grim satisfaction. After a cautious scan of the desolate street, he hauled Girlnli's muscular form into the simple stone structure. Dumping Girlnli in a corner, he seemed to release a breath he'd been holding. A cruel sneer twisted his face. "Too naive, Girlnli. Some truths are too big for a simple mind like yours. Once I deal with Girlnshi, I'll settle your debt."
He drew a gleaming dagger. Step by deliberate step, he approached the bed where Girlnshi lay bound, a shell of his former self. Hate burned in Girlnju's eyes. "Wondering *why*, Girlnshi?" His voice was a venomous hiss. "Why *you*, when I surpassed you in everything? Rockforce, wit, dedication? Yet, because your father wore the President's mantle, the tribe fawned over *you*. Lavished attention, saw *you* as the heir apparent." Spittle flew as his voice rose. "And me? I was the backdrop. The shadow meant to make *your* light brighter! Little Cloud… Ah, Little Cloud was a rare flower. Do you think your love was unique? No! My heart ached for her long before yours stirred. But you, the President's golden son… Always beside her. I had no chance! Not one! I buried my yearning deep… Why, Ancestors? Why this injustice? Even when you disgraced the President, even then you got exiled only to lead a distant patrol! Exiled? With *me* as your *watchdog*! The President's orders: 'Watch him, control him, *help* him.' President Girlnfei's words. *Help* you? Why should *I*, standing in your shadow *again*, settle for being deputy?"
The bound figure on the bed lay still, eyes vacant. But beneath the rough blanket, Girlnshi's fists clenched until blood welled under his nails.
Girlnju raised the dagger, its point gleaming wickedly in the dim light filtering through the small window. "Two days ago… you patrolled again. My soul could bear the fire no longer. I slipped into your home. I meant only… only to pour out my heart to Little Cloud. But that ungrateful slut!" Rage twisted his features. "She spurned me! Called me disgusting! Deluded! That frail little thing… the fury in her! Why? Why did her gentleness belong *only* to you? Why could she spare *none* for me? Unbearable!" His voice rose to a near shriek. "Unbearable! I couldn't let her go. If she lived… if *you* ever learned… *my* corpse would adorn the gates! If you had your wits now, Girlnshi, how you would *loath* me!" He threw his head back in a harsh, grating laugh. "Scream your hate into the Void! I *took* her, Girlnshi! I claimed what was mine! I silenced her! Since she held no spark for me, I made her taste agony! Now… join her in the shadows!"
He raised the dagger, gripping it with both hands over Girlnshi's heart. Hatred fueled the strike aimed to kill.
*SHNIKT!* *SNAP!*
The sudden violence wasn't Girlnju's dagger finding its mark. The ropes binding Girlnshi's wrists and ankles exploded into frayed fragments as if blown apart from within. Girlnshi's eyes snapped open, blazing with feral intensity. His legs pistoned out, boots slamming with devastating force into Girlnju's chest.
*CRACK! CRACK!*
The sickening snap of shattering bone echoed through the hut. Girlnju was hurled backward like a ragdoll by the monstrous kick, impacting the stone wall with a dull thud before slumping to the ground, a gurgling cry escaping his lips.
Girlnshi rose from the ruined bed. Bloodshot eyes locked onto Girlnju. A palpable aura of killing intent radiated from him, thick as swamp fog. His knuckles cracked, tendons standing out like cords. "Why? *Brother*?" His voice trembled, raw with agony barely contained. "Why… this monstrous betrayal? Why rip out my heart?"
Though the kick caved his ribs, Girlnju's decades of combat training screamed within him. He instinctively mobilized his Battle Qi, a desperate internal brace holding the broken fragments away from vital organs. He stared up at the brother he'd sought to destroy, shock warring with pain. "You… you were *sane*? The Cult Leader… lied?"
Girlnshi stood over him, Battle Qi flaring around him, fueled by soul-crushing fury into something far stronger than before. He raised a fist, the promise of final retribution shimmering in his eyes. But before it could fall, a voice, ancient and layered with sorrow, resonated from the doorway.
"I spoke truth, Girlnju. Your *perception* was the lie."
The wooden door creaked open. Cult Leader Pulin entered, leaning heavily on his staff. Beside him stood President Girlnfei, his face a mask of profound grief. Following them, wide-eyed with shared horror, were Duncei and Mystic Mystic Moon.
The sight of the President and the revered Cult Leader shattered Girlnju's last flicker of hope. The Battle Qi he'd gathered to fight Girlnshi sputtered out. His plan, built on lies and blood, had unraveled utterly. Everyone knew the fathomless power residing in Cult Leader Pulin.
President Girlnfei's eyes, moist with unshed tears, settled on Girlnju. He shook his head slowly, a world-weary gesture. "Why? Girlnju… My most trusted warrior. Why this betrayal of blood, of tribe? Girlnshi… he was your brother. Even if he erred… nothing justifies *this* abomination." His voice cracked. "What would your ancestors say to you? To *this*? Yes, Girlnshi lacks your polish. He shares Girlnli's simplicity. Impulsive… not always seeing the bigger picture." He took a step closer, his pain palpable. "The trials I set you? The frustrations? Why do you think I did it? *You* were chosen! The bloodline mattered less to me than your mind, your strength! For three winters, the Cult Leader and I planned. We watched, we tested… and you passed every challenge. We *knew* the tribe would thrive under your leadership. But this darkness inside you…" His shoulders slumped. "Deep, deep darkness…"
Girlnju stared, disbelief flickering for a moment before hardening into scorn. "Empty words! Why wouldn't your son, your *blood*, inherit? Lies."
Cult Leader Pulin sighed, the sound like dry leaves skittering over stone. "If the President's word falters with you, accept mine. Three winters past, the President confided in me. 'Girlnju,' he said, 'is our best hope.' The trials followed. One after another, you met them, surpassed them. But the shadow in your soul… we missed its depth." The old prophet's gaze was piercing. "Do you recall? When you and Girlnli escorted our guests to the Sacred Grove? Girlnshi… he was already himself. He had told us everything. The moment you… violated Little Cloud… the way you broke her afterward… a calculated act. To shatter Girlnshi's mind. You knew our warriors possess the Rage. You *counted* on it consuming him. Death by his own fire. Clever." Pulin's voice held no admiration, only sorrow. "But… you didn't foresee these two." He gestured weakly towards Duncei and Mystic Mystic Moon. "Their light calmed his inner storm. You lost your chance to finish the deed directly. Seeing him broken… you thought it served your purpose. Yet you believed my words in the Grove were falsehood?" He shook his ancient head. "I spoke truth. Duncei *is* Girlnshi's destined anchor. But your understanding was flawed. They met before, Girlnju. In the wagon. Duncei's words reached him in his prison. We wove this tapestry… the hut, his seeming emptiness… to draw forth the true monster into the light."
Girlnju lay shattered, not just physically. His world dissolved into ash. Words tumbled from bloodied lips, broken and incredulous. "No… impossible… Lies… you weave lies…" The chieftainship… the prize he craved… had been within his grasp all along. The magnitude of his loss, the colossal, self-inflicted catastrophe, washed over him, an acid tide drowning regret and ambition alike.
Mystic Mystic Moon's face flushed with righteous anger. She snapped, "Girlnshi! Why hesitate? This filth slaughtered your wife! Remember her screams? Remember her pain?"
The words were a spark in gunpowder. Girlnshi roared, his wild brown hair seeming to stand on end as his aura exploded. He lunged, fists like siege engines aimed at Girlnju's throat.
*THOOOM!*
The impact resonated. But it wasn't flesh against flesh. Girlnshi was thrown back, stumbling six, seven steps until Duncei caught his arm, steadying him. Standing between Girlnshi and Girlnju, fist still clenched from the forceful block, stood President Girlnfei.
"Father!" Girlnshi howled, a hair's breadth from the Rage. "Why shield this beast?! Does he not deserve death a thousand times over?!"
President Girlnfei lowered his hand, the tremor in it only noticeable now. A heavy sigh filled the space. "Girlnshi… many mistakes are mine to bear. Had I not sent Girlnju with you… this poison might not have spread." His eyes, filled with anguish, turned towards Girlnju. "Yes. He deserves death. But his end must serve the tribe. We must reveal this wound to all, lance it cleanly in the daylight. Justice… will be yours. Little Cloud… oh, Little Cloud… rest now…"
Girlnshi stood frozen, his hatred radiating like heat haze towards the broken man on the floor. His gaze alone could have flayed flesh from bone.
Then, Girlnju's eyes narrowed. A dangerous spark kindled deep within. His lips moved soundlessly, forming forbidden syllables beneath the President's protective shadow.
Cult Leader Pulin's eyes blazed with sudden fury and ancient power. "Girlnju! No! You have proven yourself unworthy of the Guardian's Blessing!" His hand sketched a complex symbol in the air – a luminous yellow hexagram blazing into existence. It shot forward like a crossbow bolt, slamming into Girlnju's chest where it flared and *seared* itself into his flesh.
Girlnju screamed, a sound of both physical agony and despair as the nascent power he was trying to tap vanished, utterly sealed away. Pulin looked diminished, drained. "President… the seal holds him. His fate… rests in your hands." He turned heavily, the weight of the tribe bearing down on him. "Duncei, Mystic Mystic Moon… remember my words in the Grove. Our hope… rests with your journey's end. Be well." He shuffled towards the door, pausing only to add, "President… extend grace to our guests."
President Girlnfei met Duncei's eyes briefly. "We understand, Cult Leader."
Pulin left. His figure, already ancient, seemed to have aged another lifetime in those terrible moments, a stark silhouette against the unforgiving sun.
President Girlnfei summoned two stoic warriors from the street. Girlnju was dragged away, broken and defeated. Girlnli's frozen meridians were freed with a touch. He gasped, grogginess and horror competing in his expression. "Girlnshi," the President stated, his voice regaining a measure of command, "confine yourselves tonight. Noon tomorrow. The Circle Clearing. We finish this in the tribe's sight." With a final, troubled nod to Duncei and Mystic Mystic Moon, he strode out into the sun-washed street.
Silence descended, thick and suffocating. Girlnshi stared after his father, his body trembling. Then, a raw, animal cry of grief ripped from his throat. He sank to his knees, the dam of his control shattering. Sobs wracked his frame. He had his vengeance. The murderer was found. But the architect of his nightmare was his own brother. And no matter how many times the knife fell tomorrow… Little Cloud would never feel the sun's warmth again.
Girlnli remained slumped in his corner, overwhelmed, trapped in the numbness of shock.
Duncei felt his own past bleed back – the helplessness, the childhood darkness. Tears tracked silently down his face. He moved to Girlnshi's side, gripping his broad shoulders, a silent pillar in the storm of grief.
Mystic Mystic Moon joined them, her small hand finding Duncei's, her anger momentarily eclipsed by shared sorrow. He flinched, then looked at her. In her eyes, amidst the tears, was a startling maturity, a depth of empathy he hadn't seen before. The petty barbs were gone. Here stood a friend.
**Two Days Later**
The expedition rolled west once more, swollen to eight souls. Their path led deeper into the unknown, shadowed by recent ghosts. Girlnshi and Girlnli rode alongside the familiar wagon. At noon the previous day, before the gathered tribe in the sun-baked Circle Clearing, President Girlnfei laid bare Girlnju's monstrous deeds. Violence against one's own blood was the deepest stain upon the tribe. Retribution came swiftly from Girlnshi's hand – a final blow from the long blade that had once fought beside Girlnju's. It was justice served, cold and brutal, yet Girlnshi felt no closure, only a deeper emptiness.
As the travelers prepared to depart, Girlnshi approached his father. He spoke the words that had solidified within him during the long night after Girlnju's death: he would journey with Duncei and Mystic Mystic Moon. To seek… something beyond the tribe's borders, beyond the suffocating weight of his grief. Girlnfei resisted, his own heart heavy with failure. But Cult Leader Pulin's counsel prevailed: the journey held purpose for Girlnshi; the road might offer perspective his broken soul desperately needed. Girlnli, burdened by guilt over Girlnju and a long-simmering itch for adventure, spoke his own request: to guard Girlnshi. The President, weary beyond measure, saw the value in Girlnli's strength and loyalty. "Keep them clear-headed," was his weary command. "Heed Mystic Mystic Moon and Duncei's counsel."
And so, the party gained two hardened warriors. Girlnli and Girlnshi rode grimly on their sturdy horses. Duncei, with vivid memories of saddle soreness, gladly retreated to the wagon's relative comfort with Mystic Mystic Moon and the others.
The sun blazed high overhead, turning the dusty trail into a heat mirage. Clouds were scarce souvenirs in the vast blue expanse. The air shimmered with oppressive heat.
Duncei leaned out from the wagon's rear opening, shielding his eyes. "Girlnshi! Girlnli!" he called out. "This heat could bake stones! Let's find shade before we roast!" He could handle many things, but roasting in this sun wasn't one of them.
Girlnshi gave a curt nod, his face as impassive as stone, and guided his mount towards a cluster of trees beside the trail. Girlnli followed, grumbling, "About damn time. My throat's like sandpaper."
The group alighted near the welcome shade of ancient oaks. Girlnshi chose a spot apart, sitting with his back against a massive trunk, his long blade resting across his knees, untouched by the scant breeze. Silence hung around him like armor.
Girlnli dropped heavily next to his twin battleaxes, already unstrapped. He wiped sweat and dust from his brow. "Water, Duncei? You got any? Or am I gonna shrivel into a raisin out here?"
Moon Scar smiled easily, tossing him a water skin. "All yours. Filled it back at the settlement springs."
Girlnli caught it, then paused, rubbing his neck awkwardly. He met Moon Scar's calm gaze. "Listen… about that whole… axe thing back in the hut. My bad. Blood was up. Didn't know your face from my elbow." He offered a gruff, embarrassed smirk. "Held a grudge?"
Moon Scar chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Water under the bridge. Though, friend, those axes pack a wallop. Gave me a closer look than I ever planned on."
Girlnli's laugh was loud, breaking the tense quiet. "Rockforce? Heh. Back home, among the warriors…" His voice suddenly faltered. "Except for Girlnshi and… and Girlnju, I reckon I…" He shot a worried glance towards Girlnshi. But the grieving man remained motionless, staring blankly ahead, fingers tracing the familiar grooves on his blade. Girlnli grimaced at Moon Scar and silently unscrewed the skin's stopper, gulping deep.
Moon Princess Petal stifled a giggle at his discomfort.
Duncei grabbed his own water skin and a few dense grain rolls Mystic Mystic Moon had packed earlier. He approached Girlnshi cautiously. "Brother… water?"
Girlnshi's eyes flicked to him. He took a long swallow, throat working. "Thanks, Duncei." His voice was rough from disuse.
Duncei settled beside him. "The past… it's heavy. But you can't carry it all the way to the mountains. Eyes forward? Maybe… someday, another path opens?"
Girlnshi's gaze was distant. A single, slow shake of his head. "No path. Little Cloud… was singular. A life unique." He turned his head slightly to look directly at Duncei. "The fire in my heart… extinguished by Girlnju's hand." A flicker of pain. "Vengeance is served. May she rest." His fingers tightened around the water skin. "What life I have left belongs to the tribe. My strength… for our people. Leave me now. Find your friends." He leaned back against the bark, closing his eyes. Shutting out the sun, the past, and the uncertain future.
Duncei returned to Mystic Mystic Moon. She pressed the rolls into his hands. "Still locked in the shadows?" she murmured.
Duncei nodded. "The loss runs deep. Little Cloud was everything. He needs… time. Our support."
Mystic Mystic Moon watched Girlnshi's still form. "How long does 'time' take for a wound like that?" She then turned her sharp eyes back to Duncei, voice dropping conspiratorially. "About that storage trick… Interested? Want to know how to use that little gem?" A mischievous gleam sparked in her eyes. "Be useful! And *don't* flash it around like fireworks. Subtlety, Duncei, subtlety." The shared dangers in the Sacred Grove had dissolved her earlier condescension. Memories of Duncei shielding her flashed vividly – dependable, reassuring. Her feelings for this unexpectedly brave, gentle young man were becoming something… warmer. Less prickly.
Duncei took a large bite. "Yes! What else can it do besides hold bread?"
Mystic Mystic Moon shot a look towards Moon Scar and the others, who seemed content to rest or murmur quietly amongst themselves. "I'll teach you," she hissed, leaning close. "But first… tell me! What *was* the Cult Leader warning about? That dark *thing* inside you? You owe me!"
Duncei choked slightly on his bread. He hesitated, conflict clear on his face.
Mystic Mystic Moon pouted, her look instantly captivating. "You *promised*! Secrets safe with me. Scout's Honor! Cross my heart!" She made the gesture.
Duncei's defenses crumbled. He scanned their companions. Moon Scar was chatting with Miao; Miles was inspecting a bootlace; Girlnli had found a shady spot and was snoring with gusto. He leaned close to Mystic Mystic Moon, his voice barely above a breath. "The sword… Gorith taught me. He swore me to silence… too dangerous… too much temptation. Its name… is Hades Sword." *Hades Jian* – literally 'Hades Sword' – but its function screamed of something darker.
Mystic Mystic Moon's eyes widened in genuine shock. "Soulreav—?" Duncei's hand clamped over her mouth before the syllable fully escaped.
"Hush!" he hissed, a flush rising to his cheeks. Her lips were startlingly soft, warm against his palm. He jerked his hand back as if burned. "Sorry! Mystic Mystic Moon… sorry." He stammered, suddenly incredibly aware of her proximity.
Mystic Mystic Moon sucked in a breath, glaring. "You trying to suffocate me?" she accused, though her eyes held more mischief than anger.
The commotion drew glances. Miao looked over, a protective frown forming. "Oi, Duncei! Be gentle! We don't tolerate bullies here, especially not towards Mystic Mystic Moon!"
Moon Princess Petal giggled, nudging her brother. "Seems they're having quite the lover's quarrel over there."
Mystic Mystic Moon's cheeks flamed scarlet. She punched Duncei's arm, surprisingly lightly. "See? Now look! All because of you! How are you going to make it up?" Her tone was imperious, demanding reparations.
Duncei blinked, genuinely perplexed. "I'm… already your Shield, aren't I? What more could there be?" *Shield* – 'Gēn Bān' – translated literally as 'Root/Rooting Class' in cultivation novels, meaning a follower assigned to protect and serve.
Miles laughed heartily. "Simple solution! Just offer yourself! Handsome knight for fair maiden!" He raised his hands defensively as Mystic Mystic Moon wheeled on him, lightning gathering in her eyes. "Woah there! Easy, Magus! Just a joke! Honest! Duncei, better appease the lady… before she turns me into a toad!"
Duncei shook his head, baffled. "Appease… how?"
Mystic Mystic Moon sniffed, her chin lifting. "Since you clearly lack imagination, I'll keep the *debt* open for now. Settle it when inspiration strikes me." She yanked him closer again, voice dropping urgently, ignoring the teasing looks. "You were *serious*? You truly carry… Hades Sword?" The translation of *Hades Jiàn* carries weight: 'Hades' implies a ruler of the Underworld, 'Hades Sword' captures its terrifying function.
Duncei's hand instinctively drifted to the spot beneath his tunic where the hidden hilt rested cold against his skin. He nodded grimly. "Gorith… left it to me. His legacy."
Mystic Mystic Moon paled slightly beneath her blush. Her father's warnings echoed: tales of Hades Sword (*Hades Jiàn*), whispered in high sanctuaries. Its alleged power – *Hades Sword's Strike splits the earth, the Second rends the heavens* – wasn't just folklore. Pope Mystic considered its wielder, the mythical 'Soul Judge', a paramount threat, rivaled only by the assassins' elusive leader. Her father spoke of its unparalleled, consuming darkness. And here… wrapped around this earnest boy? "So… your Gorith… he was…?" She couldn't quite say the name of the legendary figure.
Duncei's eyes shadowed. "Gone. Mystic Mystic Moon… you swore." His voice held a rare thread of steel. "Its pull… too strong. If the wrong hands…"
Mystic Mystic Moon wrestled with it. Her duty… and her promise. Duty screamed this artifact belonged sealed within the Sanctum's deepest vaults. But the fierce protectiveness in Duncei's eyes… "Alright," she conceded with great reluctance. "But swear to me, Duncei. Only utter need. Only when all other lights have failed." The gravity of it pressed down. Her curiosity surged again. "Can you… actually *use* its power? Even… the First Strike?"
Duncei shrugged, the weight of the weapon's secret heavy. "Some of it. Basics. Never dared unleash it fully. Gorith… he recalled one use, against one man. But the shadows…" He swallowed. "…they bled out. Dozens nearby… dead. Soul sickness. I can't risk… that." Even speaking of it felt like inviting disaster.
Mystic Mystic Moon leaned forward, unable to resist the dangerous allure of the artifact itself. "Just… just feel it? Through the leather?" She didn't wait for permission. Her small hand pressed firmly against Duncei's chest, right over the hidden hilt.
***BRZZZT!***
Pain. Cold. Soul-rending *pull*.
An icy current, thick and dark as tar, erupted from the contact point. Mystic Mystic Moon jolted violently, her hand frozen, locked onto the hilt as if welded. The color drained instantly from her face, replaced by a sickly grey. Her eyes glazed.
Duncei panicked. *No!* He batted her hand away with enough force to bruise, then clamped both hands onto her shoulders. Instinctively, he poured *Qi* – his life's vibrant energy – into her, a desperate river of warmth fighting the invasive chill threatening her very spark. Blocked by Duncei's back, the others remained oblivious to the near-death drama unfolding behind them. Slowly, painfully, Mystic Mystic Moon sucked in air. Life Rockforce bled back into her cheeks. The feeling… the sheer *obliterating* void... It had tried to *swallow* her whole. Only the subtle warmth at her throat – the ancient phoenix pendant gifted by her grandmother – had offered a split-second resistance. Without that shield and Duncei's immediate Qi surge… even her sacred nature wouldn't have saved her.
"By… by the Light…" she gasped, trembling uncontrollably. "So much… darkness. Concentrated… evil. Hades Sword… lives up to its name…" Her voice shook. "Never… never pull it, Duncei. Not unless the world is ending." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Even sheathed… its aura… it could poison minds, wither lives nearby."
Duncei held her, ensuring the last tremors passed. "You okay? I *told* you! Guard your spirit! Wrap yourself in your Light! You charged in blind!" Worry etched deep lines on his face.
Mystic Mystic Moon managed a weak nod, still drawing deep, steadying breaths. The chill lingered in her bones. "Point taken. Damn." She hesitated, the conflict returning. "Duncei… keeping this secret… it feels wrong. Deeply wrong. The Church… they have warded vaults. Hades Sword *should* be there." The immense power deserved the utmost caution.
Duncei's hand flew protectively to his chest. "No! It's Gorith's legacy. My burden. My *only* anchor to him." His voice cracked with emotion. "I *swear*. It stays hidden. Only… absolute doom."
Mystic Mystic Moon searched his earnest, anxious face. The loyalty, the sheer *goodness* radiating from him warred with the chilling reality of the weapon. Finally, she sighed, the fight leaving her. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. "Alright, you big stubborn shield. Fine. My lips are sealed. Just… remember you have *other* weapons too, hero." She punched his arm again, gently this time. "And your shield duties? Includes keeping *me* safe!"
Before Duncei could formulate a reply, heavy footsteps approached. Girlnshi stood before them. His face was drawn, etched with the weariness of unimaginable loss, but his voice held a pragmatic resolve that hadn't been there moments ago. "Duncei. The Dead Mountains lie ahead. Planning requires more than secrecy." His gaze swept over the group. "What paths have we?"
Duncei straightened instantly. Moon Scar and the others looked up, attention shifting from their brief reprieve. Miao glanced up from polishing a knife; Miles paused mid-grapple with his bootlace; Moon Scar stood, stretching. Only the rhythmic cannonade of Girlnli's snores continued undisturbed from his shady spot beneath a sprawling oak.
Moon Scar stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor resurfacing. "Strategizing, Brother Girlnshi? What thoughts guide you?"