Chapter 31 — Suspicion

Dao Yan Zhenren had not expected Tian Buhui to react so violently and was taken aback. All eyes turned that way; Zeng Shuchang, the Fenghui Peak leader who sat beside Tian Buhui and had always been on fairly good terms with him, tugged at his sleeve and said, "Buhui, the Chief Senior Brother said nothing against you. Sit down first."

Dao Yan Zhenren's face darkened slightly. "Junior Brother Tian, there is indeed something strange about this matter. As the head of the sect, I will of course handle it impartially. Set your mind at ease."

The anger still showed on Tian Buhui's face, but seeing Dao Yan Zhenren's expression and hearing Zeng Shuchang's two words of urging at his side, he sat down after all.

Dao Yan Zhenren said slowly, "Everyone, we have all examined this rod just now. Its surface is plain and without aura, yet within it lurks a hidden killing air. But what matters most is this: by our cultivation, none of us can command the thing, while that young disciple of at most the fourth level of the Yuqing Realm can wield it. What is the reason for this?"

Everyone, Tian Buhui included, fell silent. They were all cultivators of the first rank, and how could they not understand the principle? It was simply that no one was willing to say it aloud.

In the end it was Dao Yan Zhenren who spoke: "As I see it, this black rod is most likely an object of 'blood refinement.'"

Though all present had been prepared for it, the faces of the seated leaders still changed slightly. A blood-refined object is one into which a person's own essence-blood has been transmuted in the forging. Apart from the fact that this uncanny art demands a bizarre and treacherous method, the material for the magic treasure is more exacting still—not one in ten thousand would serve—and the forging itself is perilous to the extreme; one slip, and the treasure's malevolent blood-fiend aura turns back upon the maker, whose death is a thing no words can bear to describe. Of course, if it succeeds, the treasure is certain to possess matchless power, and it carries one further advantage: the treasure is joined to its master by blood, so that unless one shares the maker's bloodline, no other may use it. But precisely because blood is the medium, it all too often comes to bear a killing malevolence.

Legend holds that this art of blood refinement was handed down from the ancient demon gods, and from of old has passed generation to generation among the fiendish heretics of the Demonic Sect. Yet no famous blood-refined treasure has ever been heard of, most likely because the method is too perilous—even those of the Demonic Sect dare not lightly attempt it.

And now, of all places, such a treasure had appeared upon a young disciple of the Canglan Sect.

Dao Yan Zhenren looked toward Tian Buhui. His face ashen, Tian Buhui rose slowly and said, "Senior Brother, there may be reason in what you say, but I still must say this: Zhang Qingyue is barely sixteen—how could he know the art of blood refinement? Moreover, in the five years since he came up the mountain he has never once descended it, and when he arrived he had not a thing to his name. Where would he find a treasure material that is sought in vain throughout the world?"

Cangyan Daoren suddenly said coldly, "Perhaps he was planted among us by the Demonic Sect, scheming at length—that would be nothing remarkable!"

Tian Buhui flew into a rage. "If he truly had such cunning, why would he wield the thing at the Seven Peaks Tournament before the eyes of nearly a thousand people? And further—if he really were a Demonic spy, heh heh, Senior Brother Cangsong, that Lin Jinghong of yours can hardly be clean either!"

Cangyan Daoren, as though stung on a tender spot, rose in anger. "What did you say? How can Jingyu be mentioned in the same breath as that foolish disciple of yours?"

Tian Buhui's face turned blacker still. He gave a snort and said with a sidelong glance, "Yes, my disciple is foolish. But I hear he has still made the final four. I wonder what place Senior Brother Cangsong's prodigy, that Lin Jinghong, took this time?"

Cangsong said furiously, "He had ill luck and met his senior brother Qi Hao. Had it not been so, how could he have failed to reach the final four?" Here he gave a cold laugh. "In any case, he has not the luck of certain people, who advanced all the way on others' forfeits and byes—and still dares to talk big!"

Tian Buhui said loudly, "And was his bout with Lu Xueqi also luck?"

Cangyan Daoren cut in, "Indeed, and precisely because it was not luck, he lost—and lost so wretchedly that he nearly forfeited his life!"

The more furious Tian Buhui grew, the more his tongue failed him; he had never been quick with words and could not outtalk Cangsong, yet his anger burned greater still. His face flushed red as he cried, "What would you have? Do you want to see whether I am merely a hollow name?"

Cangyan Daoren showed not the slightest intent of yielding. He rose at once and said with proud disdain, "Then let me have a taste of your Crimson Radiance Immortal Sword, Senior Brother Tian!"

Tian Buhui said no more. He stepped forward, his right hand already forming the sword incantation, and in the great hall the air suddenly seemed to congeal.

"Insolence!" A great crash rang out as Dao Yan Zhenren brought his palm down upon the tea table beside him and rose to his feet, his face full of wrath. "Do the two of you take this sect master for a dead man?"

Dao Yan had sat upon the sect master's throne for nearly three hundred years, held in high reverence. Though ordinarily genial, his sudden wrath startled Tian Buhui and Cangyan Daoren beyond measure; their hearts quaked, and they at once withdrew, saying in low voices, "Yes. Pray calm your anger, Chief Senior Brother."

Dao Yan Zhenren looked at these leaders, and only after a long while did the anger slowly fade from his face. After a moment's thought he said, "Junior Brother Tian."

Tian Buhui stepped forward. "Chief Senior Brother."

Dao Yan Zhenren looked at him. "Be that as it may, this black rod is of strange origin. If it is truly a thing of the Demonic Sect, then whatever connection Zhang Qingyue may have with them, we cannot suffer him to remain. Do you understand?"

Tian Buhui lowered his head slightly and was silent a long while before saying, "I understand."

Dao Yan Zhenren went on, "Junior Brother Tian, I know this sits ill with you, but the matter is grave, and we cannot act without caution. Go back for today. When Zhang Qingyue's illness has eased a little, question him thoroughly and bring him here; we shall deliberate again. How say you?"

Tian Buhui's face went white, then red, then white again. Suddenly he stamped his foot heavily, nodded, and without a word turned and strode out.

Beyond the door came a whistling cry—most likely he had gone off on his sword.

In the great hall, Zeng Shuchang said to Dao Yan Zhenren, "Chief Senior Brother, the Dazhu Peak line of Senior Brother Tian Buhui has rarely produced a talent, and now such a thing has happened. Naturally he is sore at heart—do not take it to heart."

Dao Yan Zhenren sighed and shook his head. "Of course I do not mind. I know Junior Brother Tian's character, and I trust him as well."

At this point something seemed to occur to him, and he turned to Master Shuijing of Xiaozhu Peak. "Junior Sister Shuiyue, these past days that female disciple of yours, Lu Xueqi—"

Shuiyue said mildly, "Thank you for your concern, Senior Brother. Xueqi has largely recovered. Had not that strange man and strange treasure from Senior Brother Tian Buhui's line drained most of her vital essence in a single bout, she would never have lost to another!"

Cangsong's expression changed, but Dao Yan Zhenren had already raised a hand first. "Ah, the thing is past. Let it be no more spoken of."