Chapter 59 — Malice

The one facing the Wild Wolf Daoist was a senior monk of the Brahma Sound Temple, a man of profound cultivation. He wielded a golden wooden fish, a treasure that blazed with light; in midair it moved as if alive, harrying the Wild Wolf Daoist without pause. The Daoist was in a pitiful state, and the strange fanged treasure in his hand had gone dull and gray, no longer shining—most likely the monk had broken it.

The wooden fish sounded again and again across the field, the golden fish wagging its head and tail in the air as it chased the Wild Wolf Daoist, who fled gasping and wheezing, a comical sight. The righteous cultivators burst into laughter, and Tian Lingsu, true to her girlish nature, giggled without end. Zhang Qingyue stood beside her and stole a glance at his senior sister. Tian Lingsu's smile was like a flower, two shallow dimples showing on cheeks white as snow—more lovely than words could say. His heart swam with intoxication, and he wished only that this moment might last forever.

Then a whistle rang out across the field, and Zhang Qingyue looked over to see the Elder Nian step out from the crowd and lend a hand. His cultivation far surpassed Wild Dog's, and his Crimson Demon Eye was formidable; the monk of the Brahma Sound Temple wiped the smile from his face and dealt with him warily.

After watching a few moments, Zhang Qingyue suddenly noticed something strange. Among the demon cultists, while the Wild Wolf Daoist was trapped, apart from Elder Nian, Liu Hao, and a few others whose faces had darkened, most of the rest wore expressions of spectators enjoying a show, gloating over the misfortune. Later, when the Wild Wolf Daoist could hold out no longer, still only Elder Nian went to his rescue while the others stood by with folded arms. Zhang Qingyue found it strange, and thought to himself that these demon cultists truly could not be judged by ordinary standards—surely they must have their own factions and rivalries?

In fact, Zhang Qingyue had guessed more or less right. Elder Nian and Wild Dog both belonged to the Blood Refining Hall faction of the demon cult. Eight hundred years ago, under the Black-Hearted Elder, that faction had been glorious beyond measure, its name spread far and wide, but in modern times it had long since declined and was pushed aside by the mainstream factions of the cult. So now, seeing Wild Dog make a fool of himself, the demon cultists—vastly superior in numbers—did not help him; instead they stood to one side, grinning and enjoying the joke.

Elder Nian was, after all, the leader of a faction, and his cultivation was deep. Within a few exchanges he checked the Brahma Sound Temple monk's assault.

The Wild Wolf Daoist, seizing the breathing space, recovered his wind and cursed loudly: "You bald donkey, you nearly did for your Grandpa Dao!" As he cursed, he whirled and lunged back in, joining Elder Nian to attack two against one.

An uproar rose among the righteous cultivators, and many voices cursed: "Demon cultists, shameless to the extreme!"

Amid the outcry, Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt a gust of wind at his side and started in alarm. It was Tian Lingsu, unwilling to sit idle, darting out. Her amber-red silk streamed with rays of light, clustering about her graceful figure as she rose into the air.

"Shameless demon, ganging up on one man—Master Fazhong, I'll help you!" Tian Lingsu cried.

Only then did Zhang Qingyue learn that the monk in the field was named Fazhong. The name suggested he was of the same generation as Facheng and Fajing, though he looked far older than the two of them.

Seeing Tian Lingsu leap out, Fazhong chanted a Buddha's name and said, "Many thanks, benefactress."

With that, Fazhong beckoned with his right hand, and the golden wooden fish in the air shot at Elder Nian at once, entangled him, and carried him off to one side, leaving Tian Lingsu to take on the Wild Wolf Daoist. Anyone with eyes could see that Fazhong had noted Tian Lingsu's youth and left the plainly inferior Wild Dog to her.

Watching Tian Lingsu engage Wild Dog, Zhang Qingyue grew anxious and was just about to go out and lend a hand when someone caught him by the shoulder. It was his senior brother Song Dayi. Song Dayi composed his expression and said in a low voice, "Little junior brother, the demon cultists are shameless and would win by numbers—we disdain to do the same."

Zhang Qingyue understood at once, nodded, and checked himself. By chance he caught sight of Tian Buhui and his wife, both calm and composed, and then it occurred to him: with his master and mistress here, how could anything happen to Senior Sister Ling'er? He had been worrying himself for nothing.

Zhang Qingyue flushed and glanced around. Everyone nearby seemed to be watching the field, and no one had noticed his loss of composure; Song Dayi, too, had turned casually to watch the duel in the air. Only then did he relax—and just then he suddenly felt a gaze fall upon him from the side. But when he turned to look, that was where the senior sisters of Little Bamboo Peak stood, and Sixueqi was among them, yet not one of them was looking his way.

Meanwhile, in midair, Tian Lingsu wielded the amber-red silk exactly as she pleased. Amid ten thousand rays of light, the Wild Wolf Daoist was dizzy and dazzled, feeling nothing but strips and bands of red silk above, below, before, behind, and on every side, trapping him fast in the middle so that he could neither break out nor smash through. In a little while more, he feared, the silk would wrap him up like a rice dumpling.

Seeing his daughter shine, Tian Buhui could not help showing his pride, and many among the righteous cultivators voiced their admiration. Tian Lingsu was naturally beautiful, and set against the Wild Wolf Daoist's doglike appearance, the difference was as vast as heaven and earth. In the end, not only did the righteous cultivators clap, but even a few of the demon cultists burst out laughing.

Hearing this, Wild Dog was stung into fury. His cultivation was shallow, but his experience in combat far exceeded that of a green girl like Tian Lingsu. His eyes darted, he studied her a few moments, and saw that this wench was very likely a newcomer. At once he shouted loudly, "Stinking girl, you look pure enough on the outside—who'd have thought you'd been carrying on with that old monk!"

The whole assembly fell silent. A moment later the righteous cultivators were cursing him without restraint, the demon cultists dissolved into laughter, and a few lewd sorts among them hooted, "Well said, well said! Who'd have guessed it!"

Tian Lingsu was furious and flustered. "You—you're talking nonsense!"

Wild Dog pointed at her, his dog face full of "righteous indignation," the very picture of one executing heaven's justice. "Bah! If you weren't the old monk's woman, why would you jump out to help him?"

Even Fazhong's expression changed at this, and he chanted "Amitabha" again and again. Tian Lingsu went white with rage. She knew quite well this was Wild Dog's provocation, but she was an eighteen-year-old girl suddenly branded with such an enormous insult before a great crowd—how could she not be furious? In that instant a flaw appeared in her control of her treasure.

Wild Dog seized the opening and dashed out of the amber-red silk's encirclement. No sooner had his figure burst free than a thunderous boom rang out, and the sky full of red silk slammed shut. Had he still been inside, would he not have been crushed to powder?

Wild Dog could not help sticking out his long tongue. "What a vicious girl!"

Tian Lingsu was beside herself with rage. Her face, usually white as snow, flushed bright red. She said no more, but raised the amber-red silk into the wind, and it flew at the Wild Wolf Daoist like lightning once more.