Chapter 81 — Nine

The crowd fell into confusion and hurriedly carried Daoist Daoyan into the Yuheng Hall, though by now the hall itself was already badly wrecked; more than half of the once-magnificent structure had collapsed, and shattered stone and broken timber lay everywhere.

Tian Buhui and the others had the younger disciples swiftly clear an open space, dragged over a chair from the side, and set Daoist Daoyan down upon it. The various elders around them fumbled out whatever miraculous elixirs they carried, as though they wished they could make Daoyan swallow them all at once.

After a moment, Daoyan's body stirred; he drew a long breath and slowly came to.

Tian Buhui and the rest saw that Daoist Daoyan's face was deathly pale, almost entirely drained of blood—especially the wound at his belly, where the blood that had congealed had at some point spread several times larger, staining nearly the whole lower hem of his robe black. The onlookers could not help but show worry on their faces.

Daoist Daoyan had clearly suffered grievous damage to his vital essence; once awake, he could not even speak at once. Tian Buhui hurriedly gave him three of the great rhubarb pills he had carefully refined; after a time, as the medicine took effect, Daoist Daoyan's color improved a little.

By then the elders and disciples had all gathered around, and Lin Jinghong, Zhang Qingyue, Lu Xueqi, and the others had also arrived; seeing the sect master so gravely wounded, they could not help but pale.

A short while later, Song Dayi, Qi Hao, and the others also returned.

Daoist Daoyan's spirit recovered somewhat; he opened his eyes and saw Tian Buhui and the others watching him with faces full of concern, and at once forced a smile. "I can still hold out. It's nothing."

Only then did Tian Buhui and the rest breathe easier; among them, some remembered the legendary ancient sword Shixian, yet Daoist Daoyan's hands were empty, and no trace of Shixian was to be seen. Outside the Yuheng Hall, the spirit beast, the water qilin, had not returned to the Bishui Pool either, but lay there prone—though near it, too, no shadow of the ancient sword Shixian could be seen.

Daoist Daoyan slowly looked about him, and his expression shifted slightly: of the Canglan Sect members standing around, nearly half or more were gone. Startled, he said, "After I left just now, here—what were the casualties here?"

Tian Buhui, standing nearest him, hesitated a moment, then said in a low voice, "Senior brother sect master, you had best recover from your wounds first..."

Daoyan cut him off: "Tell me now!"

Tian Buhui choked on his words, turned, and glanced around at the others, as though he too wished to confirm once more, and only then did he quietly recount the casualties to Daoyan.

In this battle the Canglan Sect had truly suffered grievous losses. Under the Demon Sect's assault, of the twenty-five elders, fourteen had been killed and four or five gravely wounded. Even among the Seven Peak Masters, apart from Sect Master Daoist Daoyan, Daoist Cangyan of Dragon Peak had betrayed them; Master Shang Zhenglang of Chaoyang Peak and Daoist Tianyun of Luoxia Peak had unfortunately perished; and the remaining Tian Buhui and Master Zeng Shuchang of Fenghui Peak were both haggard and covered in wounds. Only Master Shuijing of Xiaozhu Peak, having escorted Master Pucheng of the Fanyin Temple and the others to safety, had come through largely unharmed.

Daoist Daoyan swayed and nearly failed to hold himself upright again. The strength the Canglan Sect had once been proud of had been all but wiped out in this single battle.

Grief and fury showed on Tian Buhui's face as well; he said in a low voice, "Senior brother sect master, for a blood feud such as this we must have vengeance—but right now your health is what matters. You must not grieve too bitterly."

Daoyan gave a long sigh, closed his eyes, and stamped his foot. "I, Daoyan, have failed the generations of Canglan Sect founders!"

His tone was bleak and desolate, indescribably anguished; hearing it, the assembly fell silent.

Just then, atop the ruins nearby, a piece of timber suddenly clattered down, and a head poked out from a corner of the rubble. The crowd started; peering closer, they were all taken aback—this person was none other than Uncle Wang Er, who had been mad for many years. No one knew when he had slipped into the Yuheng Hall, nor where he had hidden during the earth-shaking battle just past; now he simply crawled out, covered in dust and grime, yet by his expression he did not seem much afraid, and he kept giggling foolishly.

At that moment Zhang Qingyue and Lin Jinghong, who had been standing to one side, went over together—after all, they were both close to Uncle Wang Er. Lin Jinghong drew him aside and examined him, and sure enough, apart from a few scrapes, he was entirely unharmed; his luck had indeed outstripped countless Canglan Sect members whose cultivation was a thousand times his own.

The two of them let out a long breath and exchanged a glance, each seeing the same sense of narrow escape in the other's eyes. Zhang Qingyue's mood had by now calmed somewhat; it was as though the fierce, vicious qi within his body had, with Daoist Cangyan's departure—and especially after that fight with the black-clad Demon Sect man in the back mountain—gradually subsided.

At that thought, something seemed to occur to him, and his gaze drifted involuntarily to the other side. There stood Lu Xueqi, who had just witnessed his hideous, unnatural transformation; her face was now as calm as still water, and she stood without a word, and no one could tell what she was thinking.

The Demon Sect host fought desperately to cut a bloody path, broke through the Shixian Sword Formation that Daoist Daoyan had set in motion, and fled down Jietian Peak.

At the foot of Canglan Mountain, the Nether King was the first to collect himself; he called out repeatedly for order and halted the still-panicked crowd. The four great factions then regrouped and took stock of their numbers, and after a moment the Nether King, the Poison God, Yuyangzi, and the Three Wonders Fairy came together and looked at one another in silence.

The Canglan Sect had been grievously wounded—but the Demon Sect had not fared well either.

Ever since the Demon Sect's great defeat a century ago, its people had devoted themselves to rebuilding their strength, and by now the combined power of the Demon Sect had surpassed any single one of the three great orthodox factions, matching all four of their schools together. Yet in today's battle—setting aside for the moment the Shixian Sword Formation that Daoist Daoyan had later unleashed—more than ten had perished alongside the Canglan Sect elders in the Yuheng Hall itself, and more than ten more had died beneath the Shixian Sword Formation afterward; all four great factions had lost many disciples, a tremendous toll.

At this point Daoist Cangyan, because of his special standing, also came over to stand with them.

Yuyangzi was proud by nature, and resentful over his sect's losses besides; he gave Cangyan a cold glance, turned, and walked away, sparing him not the least face.

Daoist Cangyan's expression shifted slightly, but the Nether King was deep in calculation and better disciplined; he actually smiled and said, "Brother Cangsong, the Canglan Sect's strength is truly unfathomable, and this Shixian Sword Formation possesses powers beyond the comprehension of gods and ghosts. Formidable, formidable!"

Daoist Cangyan shook his head and said to the Nether King, "Sect Master Nether King, I fear you do not yet realize—the Shixian Sword Formation just now likely displayed only half its true power."