Chapter 85 — Old Grounds

But before he could finish, Da Huang was already upon him. Caught off guard, the wild dog was bowled over by the great beast at once; barking and cursing filled the air, man and dog tumbling and staggering, crash and clatter! The Wild Wolf Daoist and Da Huang rolled away behind a patch of thorns, out of sight, and only the occasional furious shout could still be heard.

"Aiya! You dead dog, you're actually biting—hey, you brat, you beast, call this dog off, no, call off his teeth, ah... you dead dog, that's a man's leg, not a chicken leg! Let go, stop biting... aaaah..."

Ming Li paid no heed to the wild dog's miserable howls far off; he turned his head to look at Xiao Hui in his arms, a smile all over his face. He examined him closely and saw that after ten years apart, Xiao Hui had grown a little bigger, and felt heavier in his arms than before; even the mark between his eyes seemed to have grown somewhat larger.

And Xiao Hui, after the first flush of joy and excitement, was still grinning, and as in the old days he climbed up to his shoulder and habitually reached out to ruffle his hair.

Ming Li stood quietly, then slowly walked outward, to the edge of the grove, and gazed into the distance. There, before the mountain, was the place veiled in cloud and mist that had once been his warmest home.

He stood lost in thought, gazing deep.

How long passed, none could say, before Da Huang came trotting smugly out of the depths of the grove, wagging his head, tail sweeping ceaselessly, and bounded to Ming Li's side with a few "wang wang wang" barks.

Ming Li smiled and reached out to pat his head.

A moment later the Wild Wolf Daoist came stumbling out of the black bamboo, his robe a little more tattered than before, several new scratches on his dog's face, and the wounds on his legs faintly visible besides.

Seeing Da Huang crouched at Ming Li's side, he felt a stir of fear and did not dare approach; from afar he cursed furiously: "You dead dog, don't think having someone to back you up means anything—one day I'll butcher you!"

Da Huang whipped his head around and snarled at the Wild Wolf Daoist; the wild dog's soul nearly left his body, and he stumbled back several steps—but Da Huang only meant to frighten him, and a moment later did not pursue, turning his head away instead. The wild dog was reassured, but on no account dared curse again.

After gazing down the mountain for a good while, the first ray of sunlight of the day had quietly fallen, clothing the green hills in a pale golden garment.

Ming Li closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

A moment later he turned, took Xiao Hui from his shoulder into his arms, glanced at the wild dog, and said, "Let's go!"

The wild dog was only too glad to hear it; he hurried over, muttering, "This is just asking for trouble! Risking our lives for a monkey..."

Da Huang seemed to sense something; he rose and looked at Ming Li. Ming Li reached out and patted his head, smiled, and with a wave of his left hand a black rod glowing with dark blue light appeared—the very same "Dark Iron Staff" of old—which lifted him up and straight into the blue sky.

The wild dog was struck dumb, then grumbled: "You brat, where do you think you are! Even leaving, you have to make a spectacle of it..."

He was still grumbling when Da Huang suddenly broke into loud barking; the wild dog jumped in fright and hastily summoned his artifact, following after Ming Li.

Before the black bamboo grove, Da Huang stood alone, barking loudly, barking on and on and on...

His furious barking echoed through the mountains, and he did not stop, until a fair hand came to rest on the crown of his head and a soft voice said, "Da Huang, what's wrong? Why did you run all the way out here today, and why won't you stop barking?"

Da Huang seemed agitated, panting; he turned to look at Tian Lingsu, who was now a young married woman, then turned back and barked loudly at the sky.

"Wang wang, wang wang, wang wang wang wang..."

Tian Lingsu frowned and glanced around, a little puzzled. "What is it, Da Huang? Oh, that's right—where's Xiao Hui? Why isn't he with you?"

Whether Da Huang understood her or not, he kept barking at the sky, hoarse with effort.

Tian Lingsu looked up at the sky, but saw only blue sky and white clouds, boundless and endless, and faintly a strand of cloud-mist seemed to trace its way out of the clouds and gallop across the heavens—a magnificent sight. Somehow a sudden bewilderment came over her, and she stood gazing, transfixed.

South of Canglan Mountain, thousands of li away in a desolate place, stood a high mountain called Fox Qi Mountain, the seat of the Nether King Sect of the Demonic Cult.

Over these ten years the Demonic Cult's power had flourished day by day and masters had come forth in numbers, yet its internal strife had grown ever more savage—fiercer, indeed, than its contests with the righteous path. The Nether King Sect had long been one of the four great factions of the Demonic Cult, and in this decade its sect master, the Nether King, had governed with vigor and grand strategy, building the sect up until it faintly seemed poised to supplant the Ten Thousand Venoms Sect as the foremost faction of the cult.

In today's Nether King Sect, besides the mysterious Four Holy Envoys, who had surfaced from the shadows, a mysterious figure called "Mr. Ghost" had appeared at the Nether King's side—usually only his voice was heard, never his person. But what drew the most attention was the younger generation of the Nether King Sect, foremost among them Ming Li, whom the Nether King valued above all; the Nether King had not scrupled to break precedent and promote him to vice sect master, treating him as his own son. Now all the world knew that Ming Li would surely be the next sect master of the Nether King Sect.

Within the Demonic Cult, infighting was not only fierce but stopped at nothing; who could say how many had tried to sow discord between the Nether King and this foremost warrior of his, and all had failed.

And in the hearts of the very few who knew something of that past, that bond between the two—nearly unbreakable in its strength—roused a faint, quiet sorrow.

A black veil gently covered her face. That mysterious woman in black—You Si—sat in silence in one of the most important rooms of the Nether King Sect. The room was not large, but it was very cold, and the reason lay at its center: a translucent white platform of ice, from which threads of cold vapor drifted upward.

A beautiful woman, dressed in the green garments she had loved, lay quietly upon it. Amid the drifting white cold, her face looked somewhat pale, almost translucent, with a chill beauty.

Her hands were folded before her, and in her palms, as though already grown one with her body, was a small golden bell, glimmering with strange light, as if gazing out upon the world.

Just then a low rumbling came from behind her; the heavy stone door of the room was pushed open, then shut again.

Footsteps sounded, and someone came to stand beside You Si.

You Si slowly raised her head. Those who could enter this room numbered no more than four in the whole Nether King Sect.

Ming Li's somewhat pale face swam into view before her, and behind her black veil her heart gave a faint tremor; dimly she recalled that each time this man entered here, his face grew paler still.

Yet in the man's eyes there was no trace of You Si at all; the beautiful woman lying so peacefully there now filled his whole being.

The stone chamber suddenly grew very still, still as death.

You Si rose lightly and stepped back, but her gaze remained fixed on the man. His figure seemed lonelier still, and that dreadful reek of blood that so often clung to him in the world outside could not be sensed here at all.

Who could say whether this place alone was where he found any peace.