Chapter 235 — A Youth Borrows a Boat

Thud. Thud.

The corpses of Daoist Chiyun and Daoist Shaoyuan toppled forward. Shen Mu sheathed his sword and looked up; Long Jiaonan had already gone far, and that red snake was swift — not easily overtaken.

"Tonight the netherworld's constables will have more wandering souls to collect. A pity I could not send Long Jiaonan on her way. That woman is sharper than the rest — at Tianbo City too, she slipped away."

Shen Mu let out a breath. Long Jiaonan was alone now; one hand cannot clap. If she dared to pursue him again, she would surely die.

That the fight had gone so crisply was chiefly a matter of coordination. Daoist Chiyun's cultivation and strength were by no means weak, in no way inferior to Long Jiaonan's.

Daoist Chiyun carried a sword case on his back, which showed that the sword was his greatest strength; the Demon King Dutian blocked that sword with eight arms, which let Shen Mu charge without the least scruple right up to Daoist Chiyun's side.

The Xuanliao Demon Ape's strength lay in sheer power, and with the Fanji Twelve-Ring Zen Staff and the Thunder-Cry Mahayana Sutra, that power was enough to stun Daoist Chiyun — after which a single sword stroke from Shen Mu reaped his life.

Long Jiaonan's fighting strength, meanwhile, rested chiefly on that great red snake, which she had refined nearly to the point of becoming a jiao-dragon; but the Dragon Qilin was its match, overpowering the great red snake and forcing Long Jiaonan to leave Daoist Chiyun unreached.

Unable to come to his rescue, Daoist Chiyun had only one road left: death.

But if Long Jiaonan fled, Shen Mu had no way to bring her down. Were he to give chase himself he would certainly die, and the Demon King Dutian, the Dragon Qilin and the Xuanliao Demon Ape could not match her pace — so he could only let her go.

"Big fellow, did Little Tathagata of Little Leiyin Temple give you any trouble?" Shen Mu asked.

The Xuanliao Demon Ape shook its head, pointed at itself and said, "I, am called, Kong."

Shen Mu waited a good while. What the Xuanliao Demon Ape had given him was his Dharma name — but since when did a Dharma name consist of a single syllable? Was his Dharma name Kong-something, or something-Kong?

The Xuanliao Demon Ape took it for granted that he had understood, and said no more. This ape begrudged every word as though it were gold, and truly would not utter one syllable beyond what was needed.

"It is just as well for you to cultivate under Little Tathagata. He too understands the Thunder-Cry Mahayana Sutra, and he attained the Way as a being of another kind, so he can better guide your cultivation."

Shen Mu waved a hand. "The grown-ups of my household have gone missing, and I still have to search for them; I cannot linger here. When you have the time, come home — Ling'er misses you too!"

The two took their leave of each other.

Shen Mu set off in the direction the netherworld's constable had pointed out. This time he no longer felt Long Jiaonan's gaze; no doubt the woman had concluded she could not kill him, and so had no choice but to withdraw.

"I wonder how the battle between Little Tathagata and Daoist Lingjing is going."

Much as Shen Mu's mind dwelt on that fight, finding the village headman and the rest mattered more. He sat on the Dragon Qilin's forehead as it traveled on, while the Demon King Dutian stood upon its back, his four faces turned to the four directions, watching for any stir around them.

The deeper into the Desolate Ruins they went, the mightier the strange beasts grew; some were already no weaker than the Dragon Qilin or the great red snake. Fortunately, most such beasts kept to their own territories.

Having lived in the Desolate Ruins since childhood, Shen Mu had a fine knack for telling one beast's territory from another. He avoided those territories all along the way, and the journey passed with alarms but no true danger.

"Go on a little farther and we reach the Eastern Heavenly Gate."

Shen Mu recalled the map of the Desolate Ruins he had once seen: one place there was called the Eastern Heavenly Gate. Besides it, three other places bore the name of Heavenly Gate as well — one each for east, south, west and north.

Just then the Dragon Qilin halted, sniffed the air and said, "There is the smell of blood."

"This creature is a big dog, not a Dragon Qilin!" the Demon King Dutian thought.

Something stirred in Shen Mu's heart. "The smell of blood? Let us take a look."

The Dragon Qilin followed the scent onward, and after a while Shen Mu saw in the distance an old Daoist sprawled beneath a tree, panting hoarsely for breath.

"Daoist Lingjing!"

Shen Mu cried out in astonishment, hurriedly calling the Dragon Qilin to a halt. "He has laid a prohibition all around; do not step within it."

Daoist Lingjing raised his head weakly and glanced at him, drew a breath, then suddenly coughed violently and spat out a mouthful of blood. "The Sword God's disciple has a sharp eye. I am wounded, and to keep the strange beasts from jostling me, I laid a sealing prohibition around this place."

"Daoist," said Shen Mu, "I know a fair bit of medicine. Do you need help?"

Daoist Lingjing lifted a hand and withdrew the seal; he tried to rise, but could not move, and said, panting, "Come over, then."

Shen Mu had the Dragon Qilin walk forward to the tree, then jumped down from its head and examined Daoist Lingjing's wounds. The old man was badly hurt — wounded, most likely, by Little Tathagata.

The crux was that Daoist Lingjing was advanced in years, his flesh far weaker than once it had been, so that these wounds had turned grave and would hardly heal of themselves.

Shen Mu pondered, took out dragon saliva to treat his external injuries, then brought out several Spirit Buddha Pills to mend the damage to Daoist Lingjing's spirit.

He rummaged through the Taotie Pouch. He had bought certain medicinal ingredients from the Grand Academy against future need; there were not many, but they should be enough to refine a healing elixir for Daoist Lingjing.

At once Shen Mu set about refining the elixir. His hands moved swiftly, with a mastery bordering on the divine, and before long a whole furnace of elixir was ready; he had Daoist Lingjing swallow it.

Daoist Lingjing's color improved somewhat, and he said in surprise, "To think the Sword God's disciple should be so accomplished in the healing arts! Young friend, how would you like to be my disciple? I have a great many enemies; with you at my side I might keep myself safe. Rest assured, the Old Sword God may be overbearing, but what I can teach you is no worse."

Shen Mu shook his head. "I am the Holy Master of the Tiansheng Sect; I cannot take you as my master."

"So you are the Demon Sect Master."

Daoist Lingjing struggled to his feet, his face grave, and made him a salute. "I had thought myself a generation above you; it turns out we are brothers of the same rank. Lingjing greets the Demon Sect Master."

Shen Mu hastily returned the salute. "Brother Lingjing is too courteous. Your wounds are no longer dangerous, but to root out the hidden injury will take some further tending."

Daoist Lingjing laughed. "It seems those two Fengdu coins I gave you were well spent. The Old Sword God still owes me two Fengdu coins — though the scoundrel will never repay them, I expect. A stingy creature; he even cut off one of my fingers, back then."

He opened his right hand. "Look."

The ring finger of his right hand was gone, cut away by a sword.

"Had that finger not been severed, how could Little Tathagata of Little Leiyin Temple have wounded me so grievously? Still, he took grave hurt himself this time. Heh heh. With no miracle physician at his side, the fellow will have to crawl back into Little Leiyin Temple and sweat it out two or three years before he recovers."