Chapter 32 — The Righteous Path

Da Huang lay sprawled on the ground, eyes half shut, giving his tail a lazy wag now and then. Xiao Hui the monkey, meanwhile, was draped across his bed, its bright eyes fixed straight on Zhang Qingyue's haggard face. Zhang Qingyue glared at it and snapped, "What are you staring at?"

Naturally Xiao Hui had no human words to answer him with, but it gave two little squeaks. Judging by that monkey face of his, the master's injury had brought not the slightest worry—rather, there seemed to be a good deal of gloating in it.

Zhang Qingyue felt a stir of irritation and said impatiently, "Go on, go on, go on—get out of the way!"

Just then footsteps sounded. Before the visitor could enter, Zhang Qingyue had already heard them, and he called out with a smile, "Sixth Senior Brother, how is it you're bringing my meal so early today—"

His voice broke off abruptly. Tian Buhui's short, stout frame was slowly pacing in through the doorway. Zhang Qingyue was startled; in all these days, Su Wan had told him only to rest and recover in peace, and his other senior brothers—Tian Lingsu among them—had come to see him but once. The rest of the time it had been only Du Biyan bringing his three meals, and he had never imagined Tian Buhui would suddenly appear.

He sat blankly on the bed a moment, then suddenly came to himself and scrambled up, about to kneel and pay his respects. Tian Buhui, his mind clearly heavy with something, his expression shifting between light and dark, waved a hand. "Enough."

Zhang Qingyue murmured his assent, rose, and stood to one side, watching Tian Buhui walk over and seat himself at the table. He did not dare draw a single deep breath.

Tian Buhui glanced at his disciple. From that reaction just now, there was no telling how this youngest disciple could possibly be some extraordinary talent with brocade hidden in his breast—in fact, he seemed rather less than an ordinary person. And yet, of all things—

Tian Buhui shook his head, sighed, and said, "Old Seven, come over and sit down."

Zhang Qingyue was startled again. Tian Buhui had always been stern with him, never showing him a kind face; that he should be so gentle today only made Zhang Qingyue doubt his own ears.

Tian Buhui waited a moment, but seeing Zhang Qingyue only staring at him in alarm and bewilderment, as though he still had not taken it in, felt another surge of anger and said with a touch of ire, "Must I invite you to sit?"

There was such authority in that scolding that Zhang Qingyue instantly recognized his master's old sternness, and to his own surprise reacted at once, sitting down obediently.

At the sight of him, Tian Buhui was rather taken aback. He looked at him once more, then gave a bitter laugh, shook his head, and said, "How is your body?"

Zhang Qingyue answered respectfully, "Reporting to Master: since I returned from Jietian Peak, thanks to your and Mistress's healing and the care of my senior brothers, I am more or less recovered."

Tian Buhui regarded him and said mildly, "It has been more than a month since the Seven Branches Tournament. It seems you are nearly well. I have a few questions I want to ask you now."

Zhang Qingyue's heart sank. He had a vague sense that the thing he had always feared had come at last, but with it before his eyes he could only say, "Yes, Master, please ask."

Tian Buhui said slowly, "That black staff of yours—where did it come from?"

Zhang Qingyue's heart gave a leap, and he could not help looking at Tian Buhui, who was staring right back at him. His face still wore its usual flat expression, but his eyes were bright and piercing, so that he was fearsome without any show of anger.

In that instant a thousand thoughts whirled through his mind, and for a time he could not make a sound. Tian Buhui's face slowly darkened, his expression turning exceedingly grim, and he said again in a low voice, "Speak!"

Urged on by him, Zhang Qingyue found sweat already springing to his brow. His knowledge was limited, but the matter from years ago in the secluded valley—how the Blood Devouring Bead and that strange black staff had clashed and then unexpectedly merged—was, after all, far too bizarre. And it was fierce and malevolent, with the uncanny power to drain vital blood. From things said in daily talk with his senior brothers, he already knew such a thing would never be tolerated by the righteous path. If Tian Buhui learned the truth, the consequences did not bear imagining.

And there was, besides, one other thing deep in his heart that had always been a profound taboo—especially since he had learned that the monk Puzhao was one of the four great divine monks of the Fanyin Temple, and then thought again of that set of oral precepts the man had taught him—

In that single moment he resolved that under no circumstances could he speak of Puzhao, not the slightest word about him.

Tian Buhui stared at him.

Under that piercing gaze, Zhang Qingyue stood up, then knelt down again.

"Master!"

Tian Buhui's brows knitted tightly. He gave a cold哼 and said icily, "Speak."

Zhang Qingyue bowed his head and said slowly, "That black staff—some years ago, when my senior sister and I went together to the secluded valley behind the mountain, I came upon it by chance."

Tian Buhui was slightly taken aback, then recalled that two years ago there had indeed been such an affair. Tian Lingsu had gone into that valley and fallen unconscious for no apparent reason; Su Wan had gone to investigate but found nothing unusual, and later he himself had gone to look, and it was indeed so. The matter had always been a small mystery, but as the days lengthened he had let it fade from mind. Now it seemed all too likely that this black staff was the cause.

But a black staff that could make Tian Lingsu faint without anyone driving it—what manner of malevolent thing was that, and how was Zhang Qingyue able to wield it? The more Tian Buhui thought, the greater his doubts grew. He said in a low voice, "How did you come by it?"

Zhang Qingyue did not dare raise his head, afraid Tian Buhui would see the expression on his face. He had never been a clever man, and now he was more frantic than ever; in his haste he could think of no decent explanation or excuse at all.

Seeing him hesitate—shrewd and seasoned as he was—Tian Buhui at once shouted, "Speak!"

Frightened by him, Zhang Qingyue broke out in a pouring sweat, his heart pounding wildly. He dared conceal no more, and at last gave a rough account of what had happened that day. But even as the words reached his lips, he forcibly swallowed back everything concerning the Blood Devouring Bead. He said only that in the valley that day he had seen the black staff and, out of curiosity, picked it up; whereupon the staff had drawn out his vital blood (in truth it was the Blood Devouring Bead's doing), and he had felt sick and wanted to vomit, and then he had fainted. Before losing consciousness he had dimly seen the black staff draw his vital blood into itself, merging it into the body of the staff.

When he had finished he did not dare lift his head or look at Tian Buhui again. Tian Buhui, however, was frowning, sunk in bitter thought: from the look of it, this youngest disciple did not seem to be lying—such marvels of magical treasures were hardly things he could have invented. But a treasure so strange even he was hearing of it for the first time in his life; if anything resembled this black staff at all, it could only be that great malevolent object of the demon cult from a thousand years ago, the "Blood Devouring Bead."

Yet plainly this black staff was utterly different from that Blood Devouring Bead.

Tian Buhui rose and paced back and forth in the room, hands clasped behind his back, pondering for a long while. Then he turned back to Zhang Qingyue and said, "Get up for now."

Zhang Qingyue answered in a low voice and stood, but still with his head bowed, standing to one side.