Chapter 106 — Ancient Temple

The old man's expression changed; he glared at the mysterious figure's retreating back, his face full of wrath. The middle-aged man hurriedly tugged at his sleeve, shaking his head again and again. The old man glanced at him, and only then reined in his temper.

After that tall figure had vanished into the darkness, the old man suddenly spat and cursed: "What manner of creature is that—a pack of beasts, nothing more!"

The middle-aged man smiled placatingly. "Martial Uncle, pray do not be angry. Do not stoop to their level."

The old man gave a cold laugh. "I cannot be bothered with them." Then he turned and looked at the other. "By the way, Sun Tu—three years living among those beasts, learning their birds' chatter—I suppose you suffered a great deal?"

The middle-aged man called Sun Tu smiled. "This disciple owes the sect a debt of deep grace. It is only that my talents are shallow, and I have long fretted that I could not repay the kindness of the Valley Master and my martial uncles. Now that the chance has come, how could I not do my utmost?"

At the words "Valley Master," Ming Li's heart gave a sudden start.

But the martial uncle only smiled, seeming well pleased, and clapped Sun Tu on the shoulder. Then of a sudden he laughed coldly again: "It is well the Valley Master knows me for a steady man and sent me to meet with these beasts. Had that old fellow Shangguan Lüe come, he would have ruined everything on the spot!"

Sun Tu gave a dry laugh, his expression turning somewhat odd; he murmured assent, but seemed not to dare speak ill of Shangguan Lüe behind his back.

Ming Li, standing to one side, now had no further doubt. Shangguan Lüe was one of the foremost figures of the Fenzia Valley in the south. Though he seldom walked abroad in the world, his fame had long been established. Especially in the great battle at Qingyun ten years past, when the Ghost King had laid his cunning plot and sent Zhou Yin disguised as Shangguan Lüe to strike down the monks of the Fanyin Temple—the scheme had succeeded at a stroke and had well-nigh brought the Qingyun and Tianyin sects to ruin. At that time Ming Li had still been a Qingyun disciple named Zhang Qingyue, and had been present on the field; naturally that name was seared into his memory.

Hearing the two of them call the mysterious figure a "beast" to his face, the man's identity now seemed ready to leap from the shadows—only that the Fenzia Valley lineage, ever upright and righteous, should now reek of such incredible evil.

Ming Li watched the two men coldly in the great hall, and in the darkness a cold, contemptuous smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

In the hall the two conferred a few words more. Sun Tu blew out the candle with a single breath, and the two made for the door, plainly intending to leave. Ming Li frowned in the shadows and was pondering what to do when suddenly, from beyond the old temple, came a strange, savage cry!

Everyone in the temple started in alarm; the old man and Sun Tu halted in their tracks at the same instant.

The sound was shrill with fury, and seemed to carry a thread of panic as well—yet it seemed the roar of some wild beast rather than a human cry. But Ming Li, straining his ears a moment, at once made out that it seemed to come from the mysterious figure who had been wrapped in the cloak; his brows knit together. The old man and Sun Tu had heard it too, and their faces changed drastically; in the same instant they leapt into the air and flew out of the temple.

In these deep mountains and wild ridges—someone was lying in ambush!

The moonlight was cold, and seemed all the more laden with an uncanny hue.

Beyond the old temple, behind a hill in the distance.

A streak of purple brilliance burst suddenly forth in the night, shot up into midair, and then came slashing down.

Even at a distance of some tens of yards, Ming Li could feel that thread of piercing, murderous aura. His pupils contracted, and in an instant he had recognized the magic treasure.

The two men from the Fenzia Valley arrived swift as flight, but the old man's cultivation was plainly far above Sun Tu's; in a moment he had left Sun Tu several yards behind, and a dark red immortal sword had already appeared in his hand as he flew swiftly toward where the purple brilliance had flashed.

But before he could reach the far side of the hill, a great roar rang out, full of despair, echoing through the dark night. The old man's face changed drastically; he redoubled his pace, and with a whistling sound flew over—and Ming Li, silent as a shadow, followed from another direction and circled round behind the hill.

A reek of blood struck him full in the face. The cloak, cleft in two, drifted slowly down from midair; dark red blood was spattered everywhere. The mysterious figure, now revealed in his true form, was indeed a fish-man with a fish's head and a human body—but now he had been split clean in two from head to crotch by a single blade, and his corpse lay upon the ground. The killer, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The old man was torn between shock and fury. The killer had struck and slain in an instant, then vanished without a trace—such cultivation was truly no small matter. Loathsome as he found these fish-men, he knew that the Valley Master had grave matters to discuss with these savage tribes. Now, with a murder done under his very nose, should the other side demand an accounting, he would have no way to explain himself.

By then Sun Tu had arrived on the scene; seeing that bloody tableau before him, he stood gaping, dumbstruck.

The old man's face was hideous to behold. Of a sudden he sprang up, the dark red radiance bearing him aloft, and flew into midair, gazing all around—but he saw only pitch-black on every side, a boundless forest sea; where was the killer's shadow to be found?

Then of a sudden he shouted aloud: "Which master is here? Pray come forth and show yourself—Lü Shun of the Fenzia Valley begs your instruction!"

His voice carried far away, and after a moment echoes came drifting back faintly through the forest and hills: "Lü Shun begs your instruction... Lü Shun begs your instruction..."

Yet beyond that, there was no further sound at all.

Lü Shun's eyes seemed ready to spit fire. After a moment he dropped back to the ground and said hurriedly to Sun Tu: "Gather up the clan chief's corpse and carry it back to the valley. The killer struck not long ago—he must still be nearby. I will dig three feet into the earth if I must, but I will find him."

Sun Tu nodded hastily. "Take care, Martial Uncle."

Scarce had the words left his mouth when Lü Shun had already sprung up and vanished into the darkness of the woods. Sun Tu turned, looked at the corpse beneath him cleft in two, and as the stench of blood rushed at his nose, could not help but show his disgust. He spat.

Ming Li slowly withdrew. He pondered a moment in the shadows, then cast a careful glance over the surrounding terrain, and his gaze came to rest at last upon the old temple from which he had just emerged. At once he flitted toward it, silent as a ghost.

The night was cold; black clouds hid the moon.

Though but a short while had passed, within this old temple it suddenly seemed darker and more gloom-ridden than before. Only when the moon occasionally thrust its head from the black clouds did some few places catch its light, and a moment later they were swallowed in darkness again.

Ming Li paced slowly out and stood upon the open ground before the great hall, his eyes fixed upon it.

A cold wind blew, and the broken windows gave out an eerie creaking, low and drawn-out in the dark.

"The young master is indeed formidable. I could deceive Lü Shun, but not you!"

In the darkness of the great hall, a faint voice suddenly rose and came drifting lightly out.