Chapter 86 — King's Village

Ming Li's body seemed to tremble slightly. A moment later he said, "The wicked deeds done by the righteous are no less than those of the demon cult!"

The Ghost King regarded him with interest. "Neither this nor that, then. In your heart, what do you think is 'righteous'?"

Ming Li did not answer. After a long silence he lifted his head and looked at the sky.

Blue sky, white clouds.

"I do not know!" he said in a low voice, as though speaking to himself.

After that figure—somewhat lonely and desolate viewed from behind—had slowly receded into the distance, the smile on the Ghost King's face faded away. In his deep eyes something seemed to flicker with a mysterious light, glittering without cease. Who could say what he was thinking?

Then a voice came from the other side. "Sect Master, I..."

The Ghost King cut him off. "Qing Long, come up."

"Yes." Qing Long came along the wooden bridge, followed the Ghost King's gaze toward the distance, and said, "Was the Vice Sect Master here just now as well?"

The Ghost King nodded. "What is it?"

Qing Long said, "That old monster of the Ten Thousand Poison Sect has sent a man secretly again, asking when the Sect Master will dispatch men into the Deathmoor, so that we may all go together to accomplish the great work."

The Ghost King gave a cold laugh. "Tell them in reply: three days from now, the Ghost King Faction will enter the marsh together with the Ten Thousand Poison Sect and the Soul-Bewitching Faction."

Qing Long nodded. "Good."

The Ghost King mused a moment, then suddenly turned to Qing Long as though something had occurred to him. "Qing Long, what do you make of Ming Li?"

Qing Long started. He raised his eyes to the Ghost King and saw a placid brow, but eyes deep beyond fathoming. A chill rose in his heart for no reason, and for a moment he forgot to answer.

The Ghost King smiled. "What is it?"

Qing Long came to himself and fell to pondering, though his expression showed some hesitation. The Ghost King saw it and smiled. "Qing Long, you and I have known each other many years. Speak freely."

Qing Long shook his head with a bitter smile, then said, "Put it this way. When I was his age, my cultivation was not as high as his, my depths not as deep..."

Here he suddenly stopped. The Ghost King frowned. "What is it? There is more. Say it."

Qing Long hesitated a moment, looked at the Ghost King, and said, "My methods were not as ruthless as his!"

The Ghost King glanced at him but said nothing, and slowly turned to face the lake, its green waves like a mirror. Behind him Qing Long went on slowly, "These years, and especially the last two, Ming Li's methods have grown ever more violent and cruel. He kills at the least provocation, and in the struggles for power he is utterly merciless. Moreover, among the younger generation of our Ghost King Faction, the more outstanding talents—the Monk Shasheng, Yan Hui, and the rest—have all gathered under his banner."

The Ghost King said mildly, "You think this is a bad thing?"

Qing Long shook his head slowly. "Not that. Only... he was once... how has he come to be like this?"

The Ghost King was silent a while, then said suddenly, "In truth, I too misjudged him at first."

Qing Long was startled. "Sect Master, what do you mean?"

The Ghost King said, "When I passed him the two volumes of the Heavenly Book, I thought that with his gifts he would need at least thirty years to succeed. But in these ten years, and especially the last five, Ming Li's cultivation has advanced by leaps and bounds—one might truly say a thousand li in a day. I fear he has a talent hidden deep within, one that even I failed to see."

As he spoke, in the eyes that had been turned away from Qing Long all this while, a cold light seemed to flash, known to no one; yet his tone did not change in the slightest. "His temper is enduring and stubborn, unyielding—which is greatly to his benefit on the path of cultivation. And yet I still suspect that there may be some other cause behind it."

Qing Long frowned. "Could he still have some secret?"

The Ghost King shook his head. "You should know that he carries within him the Daoist true methods of the Canglan Sect and the Great Brahma Prajna of the Brahma Voice Temple?"

Qing Long nodded. "I do."

The Ghost King said slowly, "From what I have observed in secret, he has not only achieved mastery in the true methods of the Heavenly Book of our holy sect, but has advanced by leaps and bounds in the Canglan Sect's Supreme Mystery of the Ultimate Purity and the Buddhist Great Brahma Prajna as well. Do these three true methods somehow reinforce one another in secret?"

He turned and smiled at Qing Long. "With his cultivation as it now stands, and that strange magic weapon of his, the Soul-Devourer, even you with the Heaven-and-Earth Pure Light Ring would have, I fear, only a fifty-fifty chance."

Qing Long smiled faintly. "I am old. I cannot match the young."

The Ghost King laughed suddenly and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nonsense!" Smiling, he said unhurriedly, "I saw even then that this youth was no creature of the common pond, and his achievements now surpass even what I imagined. If the Ghost King Faction has such a man to succeed to it, its future is beyond measure. Only..."

The Ghost King stood with hands behind his back, then suddenly broke off and walked to the edge of the pavilion, gazing out.

Qing Long stood quietly beside him, looking toward the Ghost King. On that frame which held such heavy power there now seemed suddenly to rest a faint desolation, silently conveying what had not been said.

Bi Li...

Three days later, Ming Li left the Fox Cinnabar Mountains and headed southwest. With him he took the monkey Xiao Hui, and the Wild Wolf Daoist followed at his side as well. At first the Wild Wolf Daoist had no wish to go to that perilous place, the Deathmoor, but Ming Li merely said flatly, "After I leave, I guarantee you that the Fox Cinnabar Mountains here will be a hundred times more perilous than that marsh. Do you believe me?"

At those words the Wild Wolf Daoist's face went white at once. His mouth was still full of brave talk, but his feet had already followed him out.

The vast land of Shenzhou is boundless, and of it the Central Plains are naturally the most prosperous. Beyond the Central Plains, to the north lies the frozen, bitter northern ice plain, where men rarely set foot; to the east, the boundless sea; and to the south, beyond the Central Plains, rise the Hundred Thousand Wild Mountains, towering at the frontier and stretching without end, a country of harsh peaks and savage waters, of miasmas and poisons beyond counting, and, legend says, of grotesque and uncanny wild barbarians who eat their meat raw and drink blood, cruel beyond measure.

And to the west of Shenzhou lie two great perilous lands. In the northwest is a vast and desolate gobi, called by the world the "Barbarian Wastes," where no rain falls for a hundred years and the climate is utterly dry; here and there a few oases remain, but most are held by savage beasts, so that for an ordinary man to enter is simply to court death. And rumor says that deep in the wastes stands a vast holy temple—the auspicious ground of the demon cult.