Chapter 84 — The Journey Afar

All was silent around him; it seemed the only thing echoing in his ears was the violent pounding of his own heart, and the fear of death's unknown pressed down on the wild dog like an endless, freezing sea, drowning him.

Unbidden, he trembled...

The figure beneath the gaze of countless eyes looked pitiful and utterly alone, and yet he clung on with an unexpected stubbornness; the hand that shook still gripped the Blackheart Token tightly, very tightly.

There was something oddly familiar in the sight—as though many years ago, there had been another obstinate, enduring youth, clinging to something for reasons no one could name.

The red glow in his eyes quietly faded; his arms swung soundlessly in the darkness, and at once countless black-robed figures surged outward like a tide, vanishing clean and without a trace in the blink of an eye.

The wild dog's panting slowly evened out; wonder stirred in his heart, though fear remained, and he cautiously opened his eyes a slit—only to find that this place, at some unknown moment, held but two people, himself included.

The smell of blood that had filled the air had likewise vanished, he knew not when.

That man stood with his back to him at the edge of the Abyss of the Dead, gazing silently downward, as though somewhere in the deepest darkness of this world lay the memories of his past.

A wind blew gently past; the man's insignificant frame, set against that vast Abyss, seemed terribly frail. A thought suddenly darted through the wild dog's mind: with no one else about, why not just push him over...

Once born, the thought burned through him like fire, searing him until his whole body grew hot, and he could scarcely keep from trying it—yet for all that his mind raced so wildly, his body seemed to defy his will and would not move an inch.

Until, that is, the man turned around and looked at him.

The wild dog felt as though a basin of cold water had been poured over his head, chilling him from crown to sole.

"Were you just thinking of pushing me down from here?" the man said mildly, as though speaking of something that had nothing to do with him.

"Clang!"

The Blackheart Token slipped from the wild dog's hand and fell to the ground. He snatched it up in a fluster, his face several shades paler, but then he drew himself up stiffly, as if to bolster his own courage, and cried loudly, "Kill me if you must—I'm not afraid of you!"

The man whom others called Ming Li regarded him faintly and said, "I will not kill you. If you died, the Blood Refining Hall would truly have no heirs left, and I fear the Blackheart Elder down below would die with his eyes unclosed." He walked forward, passing the wild dog, and went on, "From now on, you will follow at my side."

The wild dog started, then burst out, "You led men here and all but wiped out our Blood Refining Hall, and now you want me to follow you?"

Ming Li paid him no heed and simply walked on, but his voice came back clear as ever: "Your cultivation is too low, and besides, without me now, the Hades Sect will want you dead first. And those fellow disciples of yours who surrendered—Elder Nian and his lot—seeing you hold fast to the Blood Refining Hall, would it not make them look too shameless? They would kill you just the same."

The wild dog was struck dumb, sweat beading on his forehead; but seeing that figure gradually melt into the darkness, walking farther and farther away, he stamped his foot at last, ran quickly after him, and called out loudly, "Hmph, I'm not afraid of dying, but to revive the Blood Refining Hall, I'll humble myself for now..."

In the darkness, footsteps sounded in succession as they walked one before the other through this Ten Thousand Bats Ancient Cave. Suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him, the one behind spoke up: "Hey, Zhang Qingyue, why do you treat me this way..."

His voice cut off abruptly; from deep in the darkness came what sounded like the roar of some demon beast, and a thick stench of blood at once closed in around them. The wild dog shuddered with dread.

After a long while, the aura slowly receded; the man in front was silent for a great while in the darkness before he said mildly, "That name—I forgot it many years ago."

The wild dog let out a long breath, but could not help asking again, "Then what am I to call you from now on?"

There was no answer; the man walked on, and the wild dog muttered a few words under his breath—whether curses or not, it was hard to say—but he followed nonetheless.

Ahead of them lay still the endless darkness.

Canglan Mountain.

This immortal mountain, wondrous and mysterious in the eyes of the world, remained after ten years as fair as a paradise on earth.

The destruction wrought by that great battle between righteous and demonic had long since been repaired and made new—only, who could say whether the wounds left deep in the heart had ever healed?

In the great battle ten years past, Daoist Shang Zhenglian of Zhaoyang Peak and Daoist Tianyun of Luoxia Peak had met their ends, and Daoist Cangyan of Long Peak had turned traitor. Apart from Sect Master Daoist Daoyan, half of the six peak masters were gone—a grievous blow to the sect's very lifeblood.

Now Zhaoyang Peak and Luoxia Peak had both seen elders of the sect take up the master's seat; only the Long Peak line, because of Daoist Cangyan, found itself unable to lift its head within the Canglan Sect—once second only to the main line, it had fallen low. And when the line held its own internal nomination, it came out unexpectedly that Qi Hao, of the younger generation, had been chosen to take the master's seat.

And as though it were a trend, across the various factions of the Canglan Sect the younger generation was given ever more chances to come forward: Zeng Shuyan of Fenghui Peak, Song Dayi of Dazhu Peak, Wen Pei and Lu Xueqi of Xiaozhu Peak—all were already handling more and more of their elders' affairs.

Even within the main line, in recent years Daoist Daoyan had gradually withdrawn from worldly matters, entrusting daily trifles to his favored disciple Xiao Yichen.

Behind Jietian Peak, at the Ancestral Hall.

Soft sunlight fell upon the towering hall, lending it a solemn and mysterious air. Within, the hall remained dim; the ever-burning lamps and the faint glow of scattered incense and candles still honored the countless ancestral spirits of the Canglan Sect.

On the open ground before the Ancestral Hall, Lin Jinghong sat alone cross-legged, eyes closed. The Dragon-Slaying Sword, shedding a jade-green radiance, floated gently above his head, casting a circle of green light that enveloped him and flashed with strange mystery in the sunlight.

Gone from his face was its former innocence; in its place were endurance and the marks of time.

Behind him, deep in the shadows of the Ancestral Hall, two eyes watched him quietly. After a time, a figure slowly stepped forth.

It was the mysterious old man with the deeply wrinkled face. He emerged slowly from the shadows, sat down on the steps of the Ancestral Hall, and kept his gaze upon Lin Jinghong; after a long while he said mildly, "That will do."

At those words the Dragon-Slaying Sword's jade-green light withdrew; Lin Jinghong drew a deep breath, opened his eyes, and stood up. Turning to the old man, he broke into a smile and said, "Senior!"

The old man looked at his young face, and a faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Your natural gifts are truly fine, and you work so diligently besides; your progress has far surpassed what I expected."

Gratitude flitted across Lin Jinghong's face; he bowed deeply and said in a low voice, "Senior's great kindness and virtue, this disciple will never forget so long as he has teeth in his head."

The old man waved a hand lightly, then sighed. "In the blink of an eye, another ten years. There is nothing more I can teach you, and you have kept me company in this Ancestral Hall for ten years now. Today, you may go back."