Chapter 39 — The Abyss

Zhang Qingyue scratched his head, not knowing for the moment what he should say, for he himself was somewhat muddled about his own cultivation just now, and so he answered vaguely. In truth, Lu Xueqi had no idea that if one spoke only of the Supreme Ultimate Mystic Purity Way, Zhang Qingyue's cultivation at this moment was indeed no more than the fourth level — the stage at which one had just enough command to use a magic treasure. But within his body there was also another, supreme Buddhist truth, the Great Brahma Prajna, and that was the true key to the matter.

In the Buddhist cultivation of the truth, more weight is laid on comprehending one's own nature than in the Daoist tradition; and though Zhang Qingyue's five years of practicing the Great Brahma Prajna had brought him but shallow attainment, the firmness of the foundation of his channels had, through his day-and-night practice of these two peerless truths of Buddhism and Daoism, far surpassed that of his fellow young disciples of the same level. Precisely for this reason, when he took those heavy blows from the devil-cult fiends head-on, the Supreme Ultimate Mystic Purity Way shielded him by one layer, and the Great Brahma Prajna by another, and only thus did he escape death by luck.

The two of them rose now, and Zhang Qingyue called the Black Iron Rod back to his hand; its dark blue-green radiance spread out and enclosed the two figures. Lu Xueqi considered for a moment, then pointed in the direction opposite the water, and the two set off into the depths of the endless darkness.

How long they walked, they did not know. In that direction there seemed to be no boundary at all; after a long time they were still walking across empty open ground, and here beneath the Abyss of the Dead, apart from its astonishing vastness, there was not the least sign of any living thing.

There was only the yin spirits, drifting and wandering about them, still greedily coveting the taste of flesh and blood, floating up and down without a sound.

The further Zhang Qingyue and Lu Xueqi walked, the graver their faces grew; at the same time they felt the yin air around them surging like the tide, and Zhang Qingyue now felt only his vital blood churning, with spells of dizziness coming over him again and again. In truth, though his foundation was firm, his cultivation was after all not high, and having taken a blow at once from Elder Nian, the Wild Wolf Daoist, and Liu Gao, the damage to the channels within his body was still very great.

After a little while, Lu Xueqi too noticed something wrong with Zhang Qingyue, and said in surprise, "What's the matter with you?"

Zhang Qingyue forced a smile. "I'm all right. Let's go."

Lu Xueqi glanced at him. "Do you want to rest—"

Before the word "rest" was out of her mouth, she saw Zhang Qingyue's body suddenly sway, his frame go limp, and he collapsed. And in his hand, the Black Iron Rod, following his falling body, swiftly dimmed.

Lu Xueqi was greatly startled and hastily caught hold of him. At her touch he was ice-cold, and she realized with a shock that Zhang Qingyue had already fainted. In that instant, she who was famed among her fellow disciples for her extraordinary composure felt for once a flicker of panic.

Then she thought of another, even more terrible problem.

The Black Iron Rod had failed. What then would hold off the countless yin spirits all around them?

Almost at the very moment Lu Xueqi thought of this, the countless yin spirits shedding pale ghostly light around them seemed to pause as well; and then, before them stood two living bodies of flesh and blood, without a trace of defense.

In the darkness, it was as though countless voices laughed in wild triumph all at once, and roared; the countless yin spirits seemed to congeal in midair for a moment, and then, like ravenous beasts, they rushed at the two helpless people standing in the dark.