Chapter 84 — The Journey Afar

Lin Jinghong's body gave a start, and amazement showed on his face; the old man paid it no mind and merely said, "Do you know of what has happened within the Long Peak line?"

Recovering himself, Lin Jinghong nodded. "Yes. Some days ago, Senior Brother Qi Hao came here to visit me and told me a little."

The old man nodded. "I hear that today the outstanding disciples of the new generation in the Canglan Sect have all gathered at Jietian Peak; something may be afoot. Word came from the main line a short while ago as well—you should go too."

Lin Jinghong's mouth moved; he looked at the old man with a hint of reluctance in his eyes. The old man smiled, and a faint sadness seemed to cross his own face, only to vanish at once. He waved his hand. "A fine young man has no need of such posturing. Go!"

Lin Jinghong drew a deep breath and bowed to the ground. "Senior, the grace of ten years' instruction stands as high as the mountains; this disciple will engrave it on his heart. Hereafter I shall surely use what I have learned to uphold justice and vanquish demons, to repay my sect, and to prove myself worthy of a life's ambition!"

The old man nodded, smiling. "Good. Go, then."

Lin Jinghong bowed once more, cast a look at the scenery around him, and at last turned sharply about, straightened his back, and strode forward, leaving the Ancestral Hall behind.

The sunlight falling upon his retreating figure seemed almost dazzling.

The old man gazed after him, lost in a daze; at some unknown moment, another figure appeared behind him.

"He has gone," that figure said mildly.

The old man's mouth twitched; he rose slowly, turned, and looked at this person—the supreme sect master of the Canglan Sect.

"My thanks," he said suddenly.

Daoist Daoyan seemed slightly taken aback; he frowned. "What?"

The old man passed through his body and walked toward the inner hall of the Ancestral Hall, saying as he went, "My thanks that you were willing to let this young man keep me company for ten years."

Daoist Daoyan was silent a moment, then slowly walked into the Ancestral Hall as well. At the center of the great hall, before the altar that enshrined the spirit tablets of countless Qingyun ancestors, the lamps and incense flickered, now bright now dim, casting wavering light and shadow over men's faces.

The old man walked up to the altar, took a brand-new candle from the offering table before it, lit it from another candle, and replaced one beside it that was nearly burned out.

Daoist Daoyan watched his slow, practiced movements in silence, then said suddenly, "In those years I risked great peril and saved you behind the backs of all the masters and elders, and you never gave me so much as a word of thanks. Why is it that today, for a mere youth, you thank me instead?"

The old man did not speak. He stepped back and stood within the shadows, still holding the stub of the candle he had just replaced. He lifted his head and gazed upward; the spirit tablets of the Canglan Sect's past masters through the generations stood imposing before him, sacred and solemn, their momentum like a mountain's, as though they might easily crush so insignificant a man as he.

He was silent, saying nothing, only gazing so.

Daoist Daoyan, standing behind him, could not see the old man's eyes just then, but he did see the scalding wax drip from that candle stub, drop by drop, onto the withered palm, and slowly congeal there.

That palm, too, seemed to tremble faintly.

Deep in the shadows, far away, there seemed to come a faint, mournful sigh...

By the time Lin Jinghong reached the Yuheng Hall on Jietian Peak, a dozen or so people were already standing there. Among them were some he knew well, and some so unfamiliar that he had seen them only a few times and knew merely that they were of the same sect.

But without exception, everyone present knew in their hearts that the young people standing here were the finest of the Canglan Sect's new generation.

And of the crowd, none stood out more than two: one was, naturally, the cold and exquisite Lu Xueqi; the other was Qi Hao, now arrayed in a peak master's robes and bearing an uncommon air. As it happened, none of the other peak masters had come, and Qi Hao was the only one of the six present.

Qi Hao glanced over and caught sight of Lin Jinghong coming in. He started, then strode up laughing, seized Lin Jinghong in a hug, looked him up and down thoroughly, and said with a grin, "Junior Brother Lin! Weren't you keeping vigil at the Ancestral Hall? What brings you here?"

For ten years Lin Jinghong had told the world he lived at the Ancestral Hall to keep vigil, and that mysterious old man was bound up with a secret episode of the Canglan Sect's past, so no one knew of him; naturally he said nothing now, only smiling: "My ten years are up, so I've come out. Someone happened to send word for me to come here—I hadn't expected to find you here too, Senior Brother Qi."

Qi Hao smiled slightly. "The sect master's uncle-master sent word to the outstanding young disciples of every peak to come here, saying there was important business to discuss. I happened to be free, so I came to have a look."

As the two senior and junior brothers talked, a man came over from the side, tall of build—none other than Song Dayi, disciple of Dazhu Peak. After ten years apart, his appearance had scarcely changed.

In those years Song Dayi had been on familiar terms with Qi Hao and the others, so he came over now to exchange a few pleasantries; after a moment his gaze fell on Lin Jinghong, and he smiled. "Junior Brother Lin, after all these years you've grown even more handsome and upright—no doubt your cultivation has advanced considerably as well?"

Lin Jinghong lowered his head slightly and smiled. "Senior Brother Song flatters me too much."

Song Dayi was about to say more when another voice came from behind him: "Ah—Senior Brother Qi, do you still know this little brother?"

Qi Hao looked toward the speaker and laughed. "Junior Brother Zeng, I might forget anyone, but never you!"

The newcomer was none other than Zeng Shuyan, the finest disciple of Fenghui Peak's younger generation; and walking over beside him were the two beauties of Xiaozhu Peak, Wen Pei and Lu Xueqi.

Most eyes went to the frost-cold Lu Xueqi; only Song Dayi looked at Wen Pei, chuckled, and Wen Pei, smiling, shot him a reproachful glance.

Qi Hao and the others had met Wen Pei and Lu Xueqi before. Zeng Shuyan said, "Senior Brother Qi, when you took up the master's seat back then, I had gotten into trouble and was confined by my father, so I couldn't come to offer congratulations—forgive me, forgive me!"

Qi Hao laughed heartily. "What nonsense, Junior Brother Zeng—your good wishes were enough."

Zeng Shuyan nodded with a smile, then glanced around and said, "Senior Brother Qi, do you know what great matter the sect master's uncle-master has called us here for?"

Qi Hao waved a hand. "I don't know the particulars either, but I've heard something has happened somewhere in the west, and the sect master's uncle-master means to send out the outstanding disciples of the younger generation to temper themselves."

"Ah." A stir went through the crowd; many were curious and excited. Zeng Shuyan had been all smiles, but suddenly his expression turned grave, as though something had occurred to him. Qi Hao noticed and said in mild surprise, "Junior Brother Zeng, what is it?"

Zeng Shuyan said, "The outstanding disciples of the younger generation, sent down the mountain to temper themselves?" He shook his head slightly and sighed. "Why does that phrase sound so familiar to me?"

He and Qi Hao exchanged a look, and suddenly each understood the other's heart. Those four from back then, and now...