Chapter 73 — One

The remark seemed to come from nowhere, but Qinglong seemed to understand him, and nodded. "Quite so. Three hundred years ago, when our Nether King's sect fought the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect to the death, the old monster was the fiercest and most impetuous of all—always charging at the very front. Even a hundred years ago, in that great battle with Qingyun, it was he, as sect master of the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect, who pressed hardest for it. It seems that crushing defeat has blunted no small amount of his edge."

The Nether King shook his head. "That is not blunting his edge—that is sharpening his skill. After that battle the old monster seemed to wake to it all at once; his whole temper changed overnight. He bides his time and hides his light, and in this hundred years, apart from our Nether King's sect, the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect has recovered its strength fastest of all. Only his refusal to take that seat—now that is a great nuisance!"

As he spoke, the Nether King frowned and said mildly, "Well, in any case we must wait for those two to arrive before we can discuss the great matter, so let us wait a few days first. Hmm—that's right, where is Bili? It seems I haven't seen her all day today."

Qinglong said, "I haven't seen her either, but Yousi has been with her the whole time; nothing should go wrong. Set your mind at ease."

The Nether King shook his head, gave a soft sigh, and said no more.

After the figures of the Nether King and Qinglong had vanished, the Poison God, whose manner had until then been calm and even somewhat kindly, slowly darkened in countenance, but for a long while said nothing.

As for the young man beside him, his temper seemed even stranger still: since the Poison God did not speak to him, he took his own pleasure in it, patiently, endlessly brewing tea upon the table, with not the least sign of impatience.

How long passed, one could not tell, when the Poison God suddenly gave a great sigh and said, "The waves behind the Yangtze drive the waves before!"

The young man called Qin Wujiu turned his head and glanced at the Poison God, then said mildly, "Oh? Is that man's cultivation very formidable?"

The Poison God snorted. "His cultivation is of course exceedingly high. But however high it is, we do not fear him for it. Only this man is deep beyond reckoning; hereafter you must be ever on your guard against him!"

Qin Wujiu smiled faintly, yet his tone remained as mild as ever. "Understood, Master."

The Poison God looked at him, then suddenly sighed. "If those worthless senior brothers of yours had but a portion of your aptitude, why would I have endured all these many years?"

Having received the Poison God's praise, Qin Wujiu showed no trace of smugness on his face. He said mildly, "My senior brothers all serve you with all their hearts, Master."

The Poison God snorted, then suddenly reached out and flung aside the blanket covering his legs—and actually rose from the chair and stood up. Only then did it show that he was in fact rather tall, his back straight; where was there the least sign of illness? It seemed all those gestures just now had been to deceive the Nether King and Qinglong.

The Poison God paced back and forth in the middle of the room, while Qin Wujiu seemed far quieter than his master; only the Poison God's footsteps echoed in the room.

It was just then that a strange sound suddenly arose from beside Qin Wujiu—something like the shrill, piercing cry of summer cicadas.

The Poison God's face changed, and he turned to look.

Qin Wujiu drew out from beneath the chair a small yellow box, a foot square; the strange sound was coming from within it.

The Poison God walked over and gently opened the lid with his hand. There, before the two of them, resting plainly atop the soft yellow silk inside the box, lay a centipede of gorgeous, iridescent colors—but its strangest feature was the seven forked branches at its tail.

Had Zhang Qingyue seen this thing at that moment, he would surely have been struck dumb with astonishment, for he had laid eyes on it once as a child: it was none other than the Seven-Tailed Centipede, one of the most venomous creatures under heaven.

Qin Wujiu frowned and said, "Ever since we came near this Canglan Mountain, Little Seven has been rather restless, as though something has been provoking it."

The Poison God examined the Seven-Tailed Centipede closely, then drew a small pale-purple pill from his bosom and placed it inside the box, and closed the lid. Very quickly, the strange sound coming from within the box gradually died down and then faded into silence.

After Qin Wujiu had carefully put away the box containing the Seven-Tailed Centipede, the Poison God said mildly, "This Seven-Tailed Centipede is a rare treasure of the world; only one pair survives in all creation, and they stay together until death. If they are parted, then within a hundred li each will sense the other. Little Seven's unease these past days must be because of this."

Qin Wujiu glanced at the Poison God and suddenly said, "So that means the other one is now on Canglan Mountain?"

The Poison God smiled and said, "Indeed. The Seven-Tailed Centipede is a unique breed without peer in this world; there can be no mistake."

With that, he turned his head and gazed slowly into the distance. Far away, beyond the walls of Heyin, the towering, majestic Canglan Mountain pierced the clouds, imposing almost beyond compare, wreathed in white clouds and drifting with an air of immortality.

"A hundred years—in the blink of an eye, another hundred years have passed!" the old man murmured softly to himself.