Chapter 68 — Azure Dragon

The Venerable Great Strength's face flushed red at once, his expression one of extreme fury; but beside him, Daoist Cangyan of the Canglan Sect exchanged a glance with Tian Buhui and Su Wan, and in their eyes there was worry. From that laughter alone it was clear that the demon cult had not only received strong reinforcements but had grown far greater in numbers as well.

This battle, it seemed, would be incomparably perilous.

"Insolent!" A great shout suddenly rang out—it was Shitou, leaping up from behind the Venerable Great Strength, unwilling to see his master insulted. His demon-quelling staff blazed with golden light as he charged straight at the pale-faced scholar.

Tian Buhui and the others were startled, and the Venerable Great Strength cried hastily: "Shitou, come back! Do not act rashly!"

But Shitou had risen in sudden fury, his speed extreme; in a blink the golden light of the demon-quelling staff had rushed before the pale-faced scholar. Yet the pale-faced scholar showed no sign of panic—he merely raised his right hand, a faint blue light flickering in its palm, facing straight toward the oncoming staff.

Swift as speech, swift as thought, in an instant the golden light of the demon-quelling staff, like an arrow loosed from the string, crashed with a roar against the pale-faced scholar's palm. In a flash everyone's eyes blurred; golden light flickered, the air hissed with fine threads of sound, and the pale-faced scholar's figure could no longer be seen at all.

The young righteous disciples raised a thunderous cheer, but the faces of Daoist Cangyan, Tian Buhui and the other leaders all darkened.

After a moment the golden light gradually dimmed, and the crowd fell silent: there in the field stood the pale-faced scholar, composed as ever, who with one hand alone had actually held back the vast might of Shitou's demon-quelling golden light. No matter how Shitou urged it on in midair, it could not advance a hairsbreadth further.

He only smiled and said: "Young man, go back and cultivate diligently for another hundred years!"

With that, his right hand gave a fierce sweep, and all saw another flash of blue light; Shitou, as if struck by a heavy blow, flew back whole, while the demon-quelling staff, after a shrill ring, shot up into the sky and flew far.

The Venerable Great Strength leaped up and caught the wounded Shitou as he returned; a close look told him it was only some shock and nothing serious, and he set his heart at ease—but his anger only grew, and turning his body he made to strike.

But suddenly a hand reached out from beside him and held him back—it was Daoist Cangyan. His face like frost, he said coldly: "Who exactly are you, sir? This 'Qiankun Qingguang Ring,' lost for a thousand years—how does it come to be in your hand?"

The Venerable Great Strength started and cried out: "What, the Qiankun Qingguang Ring?"

Of those present, including the demon cult side, eight out of ten were visibly shaken. Zhang Qingyue, curious, asked Song Dayi in a low voice: "Eldest Brother, is this magic treasure very powerful?"

Song Dayi's look of astonishment had not yet faded; he nodded and said in a low voice: "I once heard Master speak of it. This ring is a magic treasure of extreme power, a divine artifact of the Nine Heavens, but it has been lost for a thousand years. I never thought it would reappear in the world today!"

Zhang Qingyue drew a sharp breath, and heard the pale-faced scholar say with a smile to Daoist Cangyan: "I am but a nameless junior, now serving as a mere foot soldier beneath the Nether King's banner."

The Nether King smiled and shook his head, saying: "Brother Long, you are far too modest."

Baiduzi, Duanmu Laozu, and the Old Vampire, who had by now also come over, all turned almost at once to look at this pale-faced scholar whom the Nether King addressed as "Brother Long." But his right hand was at this moment tucked within his sleeve, and the object in it could not be seen at all. Still, given how certain Daoist Cangyan had been, and how the pale-faced scholar had not denied it, it was most likely true that he possessed this divine ring.

At the thought of the various wondrous powers of this divine ring spoken of in legend—and since cultivators of the Way all without exception set great store by magic treasures—one's whole body fairly grew hot. Yet though these three had appeared at the same time as the pale-faced scholar, they had not come by the same road, nor had they ever met this man; they knew only that shortly after their own arrival, a master of exceedingly deep cultivation had mysteriously appeared at the Nether King's side.

At once Baiduzi cast another fierce glance at his right hand, then turned to the Nether King and said: "Lord Nether King, this brother we too have never seen. I wonder when the Nether King Sect produced such a master?"

The Nether King smiled and said: "Brother Baidu, our Nether King Sect is but a small sect of the Holy Cult, naturally no match for your Myriad Poison Sect."

Baiduzi snorted. He belonged to the Myriad Poison Sect, one of the four great factions of the demon cult, and had been sent here to this remote place at the bidding of his sect master; indeed, this was the first time in a hundred years he had come forth from the mountain.

Yet withdrawn though he had been, he still knew the affairs of the demon cult perfectly well: today the cult was led by four great factions—the Myriad Poison Sect, the Soul-Bewitching Faction, and the Hall of Longevity had all risen after the Black-Hearted Elder's death eight hundred years ago and the decline of the Blood-Refining Hall, great factions of long history and deep roots. Only the Nether King Sect was different: it had sprung up suddenly three hundred years ago, and its masters had cropped up like bamboo shoots after rain, so that within two hundred years it had already divided the demon cult's realm with the other three, a thing that made men marvel.

Within the demon cult, the clash of power was everywhere, and every great faction wished to attain the heights the Blood-Refining Hall had reached in the days when the Black-Hearted Elder was alive, when it could summon wind and call rain at will. But the factions were evenly matched, and even the many lesser demon-cult factions remaining mostly attached themselves to one of the four great sects, so that none could gain the upper hand. Thus, though they schemed against one another in secret, on the surface they still barely maintained harmony.

Before Baiduzi came here, the master of the Myriad Poison Sect had personally instructed him to be sure to find a chance to probe into the Nether King Sect—what secret did it hold? How great was its true strength? In recent years a rumor had been circulating in secret throughout the demon-cult world: that the "Heavenly Book," the supreme sacred canon of the demon cult, had already fallen into the hands of the Nether King Sect.

And now, the "Heavenly Book" had not yet shown itself, yet this Qiankun Qingguang Ring, lost for a thousand years, had suddenly appeared. Baiduzi was shaken to the core, feeling that the true strength within the Nether King Sect was simply unfathomable. But on his face he put on a smile—though it looked uglier than weeping: "The Lord jests. Who today does not know that the Nether King Sect is at its zenith? But this Brother Long we truly have never seen, and we would very much like to make his acquaintance."

The Nether King gave Baiduzi a deep look, a sharp light flickering in his eyes, then suddenly smiled and said: "What you say is true, Brother—we shall all meet again in days to come. You should know that three hundred years ago, beneath the previous Nether King, our Nether King Sect had Four Great Holy Envoys?"

Baiduzi's expression changed, and Duanmu Laozu had already cried out: "What, those four—Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise—they are actually still alive?"