Chapter 89 — The Sword Sweeps Away the Demons

Shen Mu's qi stirred faintly, and a thread of vital essence thick as an arm drew the Chubao Sword from its sheath in utter silence. His gaze stayed fixed upon the writhing tentacles, and from the play of muscle along them he deduced where their owner must stand.

Of a sudden he thrust out his left hand, two fingers joined; the Chubao Sword gave a ringing cry and stabbed like lightning into the grey mist. A scream came out of the fog, and at the same instant the web shuddered -- a woman bearing eight claws upon her back came racing across the strands, and the eight razor-sharp talons behind her plunged down at Shen Mu! Shen Mu splayed the five fingers of his right hand and gave a mighty yank; the whole web heaved up at once, wrapping the eight-clawed woman in its midst, and Shen Mu drove his qi, the Great Nurturing Dark Demon Sutra contracted, and the woman in the net was sliced to fragments.

Shen Mu let out a breath. The fine filaments that the Great Nurturing Dark Demon Sutra had become drew back bit by bit and wove themselves into gloves upon his hands once more, without a trace of blood.

"What race are these Heavenly Demon Horde creatures, really?

Half human, half beast, half demon, half insect -- monstrous, all of them.

" He trod the web and walked forward, yet made no sound at all; the Lame Elder's Heaven-Stealing Leg Art was light indeed.

The Chubao Sword flew back and dropped into the fish-dragon's mouth behind him, and Shen Mu sustained the fish-dragon form of the scabbard with his qi, ready to fight at any moment.

He came cautiously to the side of the horde-fiend the Chubao Sword had killed and looked at the corpse: the thing had eight legs, and all eight were long tentacles, and its appearance was hideous beyond words. "Mist this thick is no good for me, and no good for these Heavenly Demon Horde either.

So long as they cannot swarm me all at once, I can keep my life!

" Shen Mu stood in the grey mist and moved no more, only listening to the strange sounds around him.

Then all at once the world fell silent; not a whisper could be heard.

Shen Mu picked up a pebble, flexed his finger, and flicked it out.

It struck the ground, and apart from the clear rolling of the stone there was still no stir.

He waited a while, then flicked out another pebble; still nothing. Shen Mu breathed easier: "I have killed them all -- the Heavenly Demon Horde is wiped out.

It should be safe now. .

.

" Then abruptly a gale came sweeping down the valley, and the grey mist that filled it scattered of itself. Shen Mu saw what stood around him, and his scalp went numb: hundreds upon hundreds of the Heavenly Demon Horde were standing about him, a countless multitude. He had stood there without moving, and those hundreds had likewise stood motionless in the grey mist, waiting for him to betray himself; Shen Mu had never imagined that so many stood at his very side! He sprang up, trod the wild wind, and broke through the air -- and in the very instant he rose, the hundreds of horde-fiends moved as one and lunged at the boy in the sky.

These hundreds were all divine arts users. There were eight kinds of Heavenly Demon Horde: the first Shen Mu had seen was the monster with fish scales and frog's webs; the second was the lava giant; the third, a handsome youth; the fourth, a hideous crone; the fifth, a woman with a human face and a scorpion's tail; the sixth, the woman with eight claws upon her back; the seventh, the monster with eight tentacles; and the eighth, a monster whose arms were two great serpents.

Now the hundreds of horde-fiends lunged into the air together, their strange divine arts and their monstrous limbs striking at Shen Mu at once -- so dense, so many, that they could not be withstood.

Every hair on Shen Mu's body stood on end; in such a pass he had no time to fend them off.

Then of a sudden Buddha light burst from between his brows, and a great Buddha leaped forth from the space between his eyes.

"Om Mani Padme Hum!

" The great Buddha pressed its palms together, and the Buddha light burst out in rings on every side; countless severed limbs flew in all directions, and a hurricane swept the horde-fiends away to nothing.

The Buddha light dimmed, and before Shen Mu the great Buddha's phantom grew dimmer too, until at last it vanished.

That was the phantom Buddha Lord Huo had left between his brows; it burst forth only when he faced certain death, and once used, it dispersed. Shen Mu breathed out, and at the same time felt a faint start: "Why did that gale suddenly rise and scatter the grey mist?

Had it not blown, those horde-fiends would never have found me.

" Then he noticed where the gale had come from: the Po Boat.

That vast thing had slowly stood up -- and because the boat was so immense, vaster than Crimson Dragon City itself, its rising stirred a gale and swept the grey mist apart. "The Dawn Boat needs Sun Wardens to master it before it can move.

Could there be Moon Wardens aboard this Po Boat as well?

And if Moon Wardens still keep watch here, then perhaps there are those of my own people aboard. .

.

" Shen Mu's spirit lifted; then he saw that in the temple of the city nearest the Po Boat, black smoke rose like a pillar -- plainly some dreadful being had sensed the commotion here. Without a moment's pondering Shen Mu dashed out through the gate of Fengdu, his feet finding their power, and ran straight for the far side of the mountain.

The Lame Elder's God-Grazing Divine Legs worked in him to the fullest, skimming light and shadow -- swift beyond words!

The Po Boat's stirring meant there was someone aboard to command it, but the peril of this place was too great to allow him to go and look. He raced over several ridges, and a sea of mist opened before him.

He was about to plunge straight through when a sudden suction rose from below and drew the wind from beneath his feet; Shen Mu fell from the sky!

Boom. Dust billowed.

Shen Mu smashed a great crater in the ground, and the boy rose slowly from the pit and saw that he had landed in the very village he had come upon when first he came ashore. Now the villagers set down their work one by one and rose to their feet, watching him with strange looks.

The thing that had made the wind vanish from beneath his feet was a bellows in the hands of a man dressed as a blacksmith: human skin stretched over great pincers to form an air-bag, with a spring within that could be compressed and then spring open to draw breath, and at the front a nozzle made from a human head to blow the air.

The smith gripped the bellows' two handles; it was he who had just now drawn in with it, sucking the air from beneath Shen Mu's feet and making him fall willy-nilly. On the other side, before a thatched hut, the fat woman who had been chopping dumpling filling rose to her feet, two cleavers in her hand, blood still dripping from the blades.

Behind Shen Mu, the man who had been hulling rice set aside his work and drew out his pestle -- beneath it hung a hammer head the size of a clay jar, dripping blood with a soft patter, and in the stone mortar lay a human head.

Behind the village the tailor was cutting cloth, and the cloth was sheets of human skin; the tailor rose, scissors in one hand and measuring rule in the other. In the dye house the apprentice had been hanging out dyed cloth, sheets of human skin fished from great vats of blood; seeing Shen Mu fall, the apprentice laid down the skin he held and wiped his bloodstained hands across his chest.