The moment Han Li heard this, a chill ran through his heart; but the scene that followed dealt his spirit a blow immense, and taught him that there were still a host of things in this world of which he knew nothing.
With Doctor Mo's great shout, all seven strange blades set in his body began to shake at once, and from the ghost heads came a "humming" drone, growing ever louder and ever shriller, as though they were like to come alive and wrench themselves free of his body.
Seeing the strange blades heedless of his command, Doctor Mo grew somewhat flustered and testy; he muttered a low phrase — but the voice was too soft and the speed too swift, so Han Li could not make out what was said, yet he reckoned it was nothing good to hear.
Doctor Mo rose to his feet, circled round the room once, and at length stamped his foot in frustration; then, left with no better course, he stretched forth a single index finger and thrust it into the gaping mouth of one ghost head.
A thing beyond all belief occurred: the ghost head that had been a mere dead thing closed its own jaws of its accord, and with its great coarse fangs clamped fast upon the fine morsel thus sent it, and fell to sucking gently.
Doctor Mo's body quivered faintly, as though enduring a mighty pain; and since the black mist veiled his face, Han Li could not see his expression at the moment, but doubted not that his countenance was passing ugly.
Thus for the space of a single cup of tea the ghost head drank its fill, and at last, satisfied, it loosed its great jaws, and with that the humming drone disappeared.
Next, Doctor Mo did after the selfsame fashion with every ghost head, feeding one and all, before at length, with a grudging air, withdrawing his finger.
These things done, Doctor Mo again wove the selfsame hand-seal as before, muttered again beneath his breath, and once more gave voice to the shout of "The Seven-Ghost Soul-Stealing Art!"
This time the seven strange blades did not tremble, nor raise any strange sound, but all at once opened their eyes together, showing blood-red orbs, and their mouths likewise gaped the wider, and they puffed out their cheeks, drawing greedily, mouthful upon mouthful, at the empty air.
The ghost-mist on Doctor Mo's face seemed to know that calamity was nigh; it surged and swelled like the billows of a storm, its outstretched tentacles flailing ever more wildly each than the last — but to no avail.
Still, seven thin black threads were reft up from the ghost-mist, tracing a few comely arcs through the midst of the air, and then dropped with perfect aim into the seven open ghost mouths that had long been waiting, to be swallowed up by the ghost heads bit by bit.
Han Li stood as one bereft of his wits. For Doctor Mo sat cross-legged directly opposite him, so all that befell before him fell truly under his gaze, and even every single tooth of the ghost faces he could make out with the utmost clarity.
Han Li, first touching the other world, was utterly rooted by this wondrous power — the strange silver blades, the eerie ghost heads, and the baleful black mist that floated over Doctor Mo's face, these phenomena none of which could be explained by common reason, every one of them overturned the order he had known. For in days of old Han Li had ever felt but half a faith in the matters of gods and ghosts; to him, whatever he had not beheld with his own eyes, he could never bring himself to believe.
Now, these ghostly spectacles that only appeared in tales and legends were played out in the flesh before his very face — how could they fail to shake Han Li's heart?
For a while Han Li's mind was thrown into utter chaos; facing such an inhuman power, being but a prisoner, he knew not truly how to meet it.
Little by little, the ghost-mist on Doctor Mo's face thinned from thick to thin, from dense to sparse, swallowed up almost wholly by the ghost heads, until there remained only the last faint wisp, dimly veiling his features.
By this time Doctor Mo's face had grown dimly visible; yet the moment Han Li saw the true features that were newly unveiled, his mouth flew open in sheer astonishment, and for a long while he could not close it again.
Many were the things that had astonished Han Li that day; but none so blew upon his mind, none so made him forget himself, as what he now beheld.
For the face now revealed from the black mist was that of a robust man of some thirty-odd years, in the very prime of his strength; and from the familiar turn of the brows and the eyes, it was plainly Doctor Mo himself, no doubt — only younger by at least a score of decades.
That firm, well-chiselled face, those eyes that held a natural majesty without any rage, that mouth's corner faintly curved in a scornful smile — by any reckoning it was the countenance of a lad handsome beyond compare. A face of such mature masculinity dealt a deadly blow to women; whether a maiden in the bloom of her girlhood, or a forlorn wife sundered in the deep court behind high walls, in the main they could not withstand this man's onslaught — a single gesture and most of them would of their own accord throw themselves into his arms, and sink deep therein, unable to draw themselves out.
Beholding that countenance, even Han Li felt within him a sudden impulse to smash it to pulp with a single fist — for was not its image of a handsome man all too apt to arouse the envy of other men?
As he watched the last lingering wisp of black mist upon the face drawn likewise into the ghost mouths, Han Li bethought himself how Doctor Mo had once told him that he had in truth been but a man of some thirty-odd years, and had only, through a mishap in healing his wounds, had his essential yuan drained away over a long while by some baleful evil, and so grown so aged and broken.
So, by this token, the other had not seemed to deceive him on this point. The present visage should be Doctor Mo's true features after all; only the means by which he had so restored himself was past all fathoming.
By then, Han Li realized that Doctor Mo was younger not alone in feature, but in his very body and his hair as well — the jet-black stiff locks, the tall and upright figure, all told that he stood in the golden prime of a man's life, his strength and energy at the very summit of a body's vigour.
"Yet," Han Li wondered, "since Doctor Mo has a means to recover his true looks, why should he have put himself to such pains over me?"
A doubt stole into Han Li's heart; he shook himself awake from his astonishment, and was reminded that he still stood in peril. And so his mind began to spin swiftly, turning all of this over without cease, seeking by some means to find, amid the present pass, a way to slip free.
Han Li saw that the younger Doctor Mo seemed somewhat dazed in his senses; he stood stock-still in his place, speaking not a word.
After a long space he raised one palm, and with the look of a man gazing upon a treasure he had long believed lost, examined closely the smooth skin on the back of his hand; and then he closed his eyes, pressed the palm close against his cheek, and rubbed it gently to and fro, as though savoring anew the vigor of youth.
This self-fondling air of Doctor Mo's was more than Han Li, standing by, could stomach; he could never share in all the mingled welter of feeling that now surged up in the other, at having recovered what he had lost.
"Elder Mo, it seems you have recovered your true form. Since you have no further need of your disciple, might you then let him go? Then, in days to come, your disciple could yet serve you hand and foot, to the last of his strength."
At length Han Li could hold his peace no longer; to this very hour he knew not how the other meant to deal with him. Therefore, though full well he knew the man could not so readily let him off, he yet played the fool and cast out a probing word, hoping only to learn the sooner what fate awaited him, so that he might make provision otherwise.