Chapter 190 — The Old Master of My House

"Grandpa Mojiang!

" Shen Mu ran over in haste, flung wide his arms, and hugged the old man in plain cloth with all his strength, meaning to lift him up; but the old man was like the heaviest mountain in the world, and could not be moved at all. Shen Mu laughed aloud in his elation, put forth his whole strength to lift him, and still could not. Mojiang grunted twice, "ah, ah," and set down his box; then at last Shen Mu lifted him, spun him twice around, and planted the old man back on the ground.

Mojiang landed on his backside, scrambled up, patted the dust from his seat, and made a couple of gestures meaning: you are a wicked boy.

"Grandpa Mojiang, you left the village too? How do you come to be here? " Joy and shock warred in Shen Mu's heart.

"That was magnificent just now," he asked swiftly.

"Are all those sword pellets in your box ones you refined yourself? Who else came out with you?

" "Ah, ah!

Ah, ah, ah! " As he spoke, Mojiang gestured with his hands: his brows knit into a look of boredom, his palm patted his cheek in pantomime of sleep, then he thrust out two fingers and walked them along.

His hands flew, his face changed from instant to instant, until Shen Mu's eyes swam. "Grandpa Mojiang, slow down, I cannot follow you. Where is Grandpa Long?

Why is he not with you? " Mojiang looked smug and gestured: he had slipped out of the village in secret, telling no one.

Shen Mu blinked and laughed. "You do not know — I have met Grandpa Tu and Grandpa Xia, and Granny Zhu as well.

They have all left the village already. " Mojiang was astonished. "Ah, ah," he said, and lifting the wooden box he held it out to Shen Mu, signifying that he should carry it for him. Shen Mu gave a cold laugh and did not raise a hand. "Grandpa Mojiang, do not think you can make a fool of me again. That box of yours is terribly heavy — there must be several thousand sword pellets inside.

Your sword pellets are heavy, and the box heavier still.

If I carried it for you, my shoulders would be wrenched from their sockets and I would be flat on the ground!

I was taken in once before; I will not be taken in a second time. " Mojiang grinned a silent, wicked grin and gave Shen Mu a thumbs-up. In all Yincan Village, the ones who loved best to make a fool of Shen Mu were, after the Lame Elder, none other than he.

Suddenly Mojiang raised his brows and looked past Shen Mu's shoulder.

Shen Mu whirled around and saw a middle-aged man striding toward them.

The Emperor's Teacher of Jingping walked quietly up before them and halted when he was still a dozen zhang away. "A figure of the last age?

" he said softly. Mojiang grimaced and gestured twice.

The Emperor's Teacher frowned; he could not understand.

Shen Mu explained, "Your Eminence, Grandpa Mojiang means that he does not count as a figure of the last age — he is still young. " The Emperor's Teacher frowned again. That he could not read Mojiang's words and must have Shen Mu translate for him gave him, somehow, an uncomfortable feeling. "Brother Dao, your arts are transcendent — and yet what you cultivate is not the way of the sword.

" The Emperor's Teacher said with feeling, "I have spoken with several people of the last age, and profited greatly. I thought I had some acquaintance with every kind of divine power and dharma. I never looked to meet a divine power so wholly unlike the rest.

Brother Dao, will you let me witness your art? " Shen Mu was startled. He had seen Mojiang make his move just now: countless sword pellets had risen into the air and become endless flying swords, forcing even the Dutian Demon King to defend himself — and still he had been wounded by those swords.

Shen Mu had thought Mojiang's whole art lay in the sword; yet the Emperor's Teacher said that what Mojiang cultivated was not swordsmanship. Could it be that his true art was greater still than the sword-play he had shown?

In the village, what Mojiang had taught him was the forging of iron; Shen Mu had often carried a great iron hammer, and his hammer-play had come from Mojiang.

"Can it be that what Grandpa Mojiang cultivates is the hammer? " Mojiang grinned and hitched the forge on his back tighter, then set down the wooden box in his hand. As he stood there he looked for all the world like a blacksmith tramping from street to street, who would stop at any village he came to, rest his feet, and forge iron tools for the villagers.

His box looked like the sort that holds a smith's sundry goods; what came out of it should never be sword pellets, but hammers, anvils, funnels, iron ladles and the like. He opened the wooden box and gestured again with his "ah, ah. " The Emperor's Teacher's face stiffened, and he looked at Shen Mu.

Shen Mu said, "Grandpa Mojiang says his craft is all but lost.

If Your Eminence wishes to see it, you may; he wants Your Eminence to find him an heir to pass it on to. " The Emperor's Teacher was filled with solemn respect. "Brother Dao is willing to hand down the whole of his life's art to another — a breadth of mind that shames the patriarchs and masters and sect-leaders of those famous schools and great sects, I know not by how much.

If fate allows, I will surely keep watch for you. " The wooden box was opened: within lay sword pellets beyond counting, each no bigger than a fingertip. The Emperor's Teacher looked doubtful.

Mojiang smiled faintly and stretched out his palm; at once the sword pellets were no longer silver balls, but liquefied — like water, and like light, and most of all like light turned into water.

The boxful of sword pellets became a boxful of luminous liquid. The liquid rose gently from the box, climbed over Mojiang's body, and flowed over him from head to foot like a suit of silver armor. Shen Mu and the Emperor's Teacher immediately saw strange veins surface upon the armor: uncanny runes and arrays, whose office was defense.

Then the luminous liquid ran down from Mojiang's body and in midair became a great bell, more than ten zhang tall, its walls so thin that one seemed to see through from this side to the other. The bell revolved slowly, and upon its walls appeared writings of the utmost antiquity, the patterns of all manner of strange beasts, the arrangement of the stars of the whole heaven.

Swish — the bell became flowing light, and a silver dragon appeared, circling them, swimming round, dragon patterns covering its whole body. Suddenly the silver dragon rose into the sky and became a long sword; the sword thrust at heaven, performing marvelous sword moves, then all at once gathered in its sword-light, and a great shield descended from the sky.

Before the shield touched the ground it became a silver umbrella, spinning gently down. The sword pellets in Mojiang's box could transform in a thousand ways, becoming every kind of weapon, every kind of treasure with a different use!

The treasures in that box of his could even take the form of divine powers! It was the first time Shen Mu had seen Mojiang display his true art, the first time he had seen a skill so consummate.

Mojiang had never taught him this art; in the village he had never even seen Mojiang use it.

The Emperor's Teacher watched spellbound.

Suddenly the luminous liquid flowed toward them and became a silver boat. Mojiang tossed the box into the boat, leapt lightly aboard, grinned at Shen Mu, waved his hand — and the silver boat broke through the air and was gone, swift beyond measure, leaving no trace.

Shen Mu opened his mouth, wanting to call him back; he thought for a moment, and did not.

After a while, the Emperor's Teacher slowly let out a breath of stale air and said in praise, "Fine art, fine art. There are still arts in this world I do not know and have never seen.

This Brother Dao is extraordinary.

Doctor of the Imperial Academy, do you know him? " Shen Mu said, "He is the old master of my house.

" The Emperor's Teacher was taken aback, not understanding. "Can he be an expert of the Youmo Cult?