Chapter 76 — The Fourth Chapter

The Perfected One Daoyan's face too gradually darkened. "Have you anything to say?"

Though he had long since known he must face this day, Zhang Qingyue's heart was still a blank white void; the dread of the unknown punishment that might fall on him set his body trembling faintly.

"I—I—I..."

Like a little boat despairing yet still struggling with all its might upon the vast sea, he spoke simple words in a daze, with no idea at all what he meant to say.

The Perfected One Daoyan's face was stern. "Where did this Blood-devouring Bead come from?"

His voice rose sharply at the end, the tone turning harsh; Zhang Qingyue, startled by the shout, felt a buzzing in his head and a sudden confusion, and at last began to speak—and once begun, the rest followed of itself: how in childhood he had been teased by the monkey Xiao Hui, how afterward he had chased it with Tian Lingsu to the hidden valley behind the mountain, how the Blood-devouring Bead and the strange black rod had suddenly clashed, and at last turned into this shape...

In the great hall, the crowd exchanged looks; even the Perfected One Daoyan, Pucheng and Pukong, and that old man Shangguan of the Fenxia Valley knitted their brows. That the Blood-devouring Bead and the Soul-Snatcher could be fused with blood as the medium was something even these masters of great cultivation were hearing for the first time—proof indeed that the world was vast and nothing too strange to exist.

There were not a few among them who harbored doubts, but Zhang Qingyue's gaze was somewhat dull and his manner desolate, and he did not look like a liar.

The Perfected One Daoyan pondered a moment, then looked at Zhang Qingyue and said, "Very well, I will for now believe this tale of accidental fusion. But before that, the Blood-devouring Bead was already on your person; you were a small child, how could you have come by such an evil thing? And furthermore, the Blood-devouring Bead always drains the essence and blood of living things, and at that time it had not yet fused with the Soul-Snatcher; how could you have remained unharmed?"

Zhang Qingyue was struck dumb. The true reason was, of course, that Puzhao had at the time used the Buddha's true dharma to temporarily restrain the Blood-devouring Bead, and that day Puzhao had also told him to throw it from some deserted and remote cliff—but Zhang Qingyue himself had kept the bead as a keepsake.

And to speak of Puzhao now would be to tell everything; yet this was the one thing Zhang Qingyue, deep in his heart, deeply did not wish to say.

That kindly old monk and he had in truth shared no more than a single night's fate; he had called him "Master," his one and only time, only when the man's lamp was guttering out. Yet all these years, by no means could he forget that man.

In an instant, the gazes and voices of those around him seemed to grow so distant, and the scene before his eyes seemed to return to many years ago, when he faced that old monk, a small boy stubborn and firm, saying to him, "I know. I won't tell even if I die!"

Not even if I die!

Not even if I die... not even if I die... not even if I die...

"Speak!"

A great shout shook the air all around; it was Tian Buhui, brows tightly knit, rising furiously to his feet and startling everyone. His face was stern beyond words, yet the worry in his eyes grew heavier and heavier. What Zhang Qingyue had now admitted were all grave violations of the Canglan Sect's and the righteous path's taboos; by ordinary reckoning, death itself might not be enough.

Tian Buhui was both alarmed and furious, and yet this little disciple seemed not to know that his life hung by a thread. Especially with the Fanyin Temple and Fenxia Valley people all present, even if the Canglan Sect wished to shield him there was nothing to be done; if this went on, Zhang Qingyue's little life would truly be hard to preserve!

But Zhang Qingyue now seemed possessed; he slowly lowered his head and said not a word. The others might be one thing, but Su Wan and the rest of Dazhu Peak who had watched him grow up were all struck dumb and pale. Zhang Qingyue's nature had always been silent and stubborn, and at this critical moment he looked for all the world as though he would say nothing, come what may.

Tian Buhui strode abruptly forward, but before he could say or do anything, the abbot of the Fanyin Temple, the Venerable Monk Pucheng, who had been silent all this while, suddenly opened his eyes and said, "Benefactor Tian, let us discuss matters calmly. There is no need for force."

Tian Buhui was taken aback; he had not expected the Venerable Pucheng to speak up for Zhang Qingyue. But the Venerable Monk Pucheng was a man of such virtue and eminence that even he, a branch head of the Canglan Sect, dared not fail to respect his wishes; so he could only give a snort and sit back down.

The Perfected One Daoyan glanced coolly at Pucheng, brows slightly knit as though pondering something, then said to Zhang Qingyue, "And another thing: this true dharma of the Great Brahma Prajna upon your person—where exactly did you learn it?"

At these words everyone tensed at once; the crux of the matter faintly touched the hidden undercurrents between the two great factions of the righteous path today, and this answer was bound to shake heaven and earth!

But Zhang Qingyue remained kneeling there in silence, and for a long time said not a single word.

The Perfected One Daoyan's pupils contracted. "Will you still not tell the truth?"

Facheng, who had watched Zhang Qingyue from first to last, suddenly lowered his head and looked at him no more; even Pucheng and Pukong seated before him exchanged a glance, a faint light flickering in their eyes—what they were thinking, none could tell.

The world around him was all silence, yet it seemed to have become a boundless invisible wall, pressing in on him from either side, coldly squeezing.

Zhang Qingyue slowly began to feel he could not breathe, and yet he still did not speak.

Perhaps even he did not know what it was he was holding fast to.

"Bang!"

A great crash startled the crowd; Zhang Qingyue too looked up, and saw that the Perfected One Daoyan had slammed the Black Iron Staff heavily onto the tea table and risen abruptly to his feet, brows tightly knit, plainly in true wrath. "Wretched child! Do not think that because you will not open your mouth, I have no way to deal with you!"

Zhang Qingyue's body quivered, his face a welter of conflicting emotions, but in the end he did not speak.

Daoyan grew angrier still, and in his fury laughed instead. "Good. Good. Good. You wretched child, today I will make you—"

"Sect leader, calm your wrath!"

Suddenly a cry went up from among the Canglan Sect disciples, and at once a stir ran through the sect and every face changed. The Perfected One Daoyan had presided over Qingyun for close on a century, and his authority had always been such that none dared stand against him; that someone should now dare to block him was unlooked for, and even Zhang Qingyue turned his head to look.

Amid the uproar, there was Lu Xueqi, resolutely parting the crowd and stepping forth to the center; she came to stand beside Zhang Qingyue and knelt down.

The Perfected One Daoyan was struck dumb, and Master Shuijing was astonished beyond measure; he rose to his feet and said urgently, "Qi'er, have you gone mad? Come back at once!"

Lu Xueqi's face was faintly pale, but where she knelt beside Zhang Qingyue her body showed not the slightest intention of shrinking back. Upon that matchless, beautiful countenance, her white teeth gently bit her soft lower lip, and she said quietly, "Sect Leader—Uncle Master, this disciple Lu Xueqi of Xiaozhu Peak has something to say."

Shuijing frowned and barked, "Qi'er, Zhang Qingyue is a disciple of Dazhu Peak who has committed grave crimes; the sect leader will decide the matter himself. Do not meddle—come back at once!"