Chapter 164 — The Forbidden Ground

He did not continue, but Dao Yan Zhenren was hardly a man who needed things spelled out; and the battle indeed was growing desperate. He turned to Yun Yifeng and nodded: "Rest assured, Valley Master."

With that, he looked back over his shoulder. Behind the three of them stood several dozen elders and heads of the righteous path—some white-haired and venerable, some with the air of immortals. These elders of the Canglan Sect and the seniors of the other branches were, one might say, the last fighting strength of the righteous path.

Dao Yan Zhenren was silent for a long while, then at last said slowly: "Everyone, go down."

No one spoke. At these words from Dao Yan Zhenren, those final several dozen—some nodding slightly, some cupping their hands in salute—vanished in a flicker of darting light, and the last few dozen elders of the righteous path rose into the air as one and flew down the mountain.

And outside the Yuheng Hall at this moment, besides Dao Yan Zhenren, Reverend Pucheng, and Yun Yifeng, stood six others—the heads of the six branches of the Canglan Sect other than the Heaven-Reaching Peak. For some reason they had, unexpectedly, not joined the battle. Dao Yan Zhenren faced them and nodded: "Everyone, the situation has clearly reached a critical pass. That matter we discussed before—I entrust it to you now."

Among the six branch heads, the newly appointed younger generation such as Qi Hao had always been reverent before him. Only Tian Buhui, Zeng Shuchang, and Master Shuijing wore calm expressions. Hearing Dao Yan Zhenren's instructions, the others seemed to have long known this would come, and no astonishment showed on their faces—only over Tian Buhui's did a faint shadow seem to pass.

At once the six bowed to Dao Yan Zhenren, then rose into the air, each flying off in a different direction—evidently returning to the mountain ranges of their own branches. Only Tian Buhui, for some unknown reason, paused, turned, and cast a glance at Dao Yan Zhenren. Somewhat surprised, Dao Yan Zhenren said: "Junior Brother Tian, what is it?"

Tian Buhui hesitated, then lowered his voice: "Senior Brother Sect Master, once the Celestial Mechanism Seal is opened, the murderous aura of the Ancient Sword of Immortal Slaying will surge violently, and its backlash will be irresistible. You must be careful—do not, do not let your late years be ruined…"

Dao Yan Zhenren was silent a moment, his face stern, then slowly nodded: "Junior Brother Tian, we have known each other for many years, and I understand your heart. Rest assured—even should something happen, for the sake of all living things under heaven, I cannot afford to concern myself with that."

The muscles in Tian Buhui's face twitched once, but in the end he said no more. He looked at Dao Yan Zhenren's face, nodded, and with a flick of his sleeve a strange crimson-yellow radiance appeared and bore him up into the sky—toward the direction of Dazhu Peak.

********

The sounds of fierce combat drifting faintly from the front mountain had by the rear mountain of the Heaven-Reaching Peak grown hard to hear. The thin mist had dispersed; birds sang softly; this place seemed another world entirely. Only, it was the same in this: even in so tranquil a place there were still flashing blades and shadows of swords, still blood and covert strife.

The emerald-green Dragon-Slaying Sword glimmered with a faint, ghostly light, its blade seeming to tremble slightly, as though mourning something. The aged elder had lost all vitality and lay quietly on the ground, his head lolling to one side. Kneeling beside him, Lin Jinghong's face was terrifyingly flushed, a succession of furious expressions shifting through his eyes, his teeth clenched deep and tight; though he seemed silent, within that silence lurked a faint madness.

In the shadows of the woods, the black-robed Mr. Gui had still not departed, watching Lin Jinghong's figure from behind like a specter. His gaze moved from Wan Jiangu's lifeless body to Lin Jinghong, and at last to the Dragon-Slaying Sword. Then, as though something had occurred to him, he turned his head and looked toward the Phantom Moon Cave.

That path stretched cold and lonely into the distance, with not a stir of movement to be seen.

Beneath the black veil, no one could see Mr. Gui's expression.

Lin Jinghong's mind was in utter turmoil. Wan Jiangu's sudden murder had plunged him into a state bordering on madness. Ever since the great upheaval at Qingyun ten years ago, when his revered master, Daoist Cangyan, had betrayed Qingyun, Wan Jiangu's sudden appearance—his learning, his bearing, his breadth of mind—had made him a figure Lin Jinghong revered. For ten years, under Wan Jiangu's fostering care, he had cultivated diligently, and in his heart he had come to regard this utterly mysterious old man as half teacher, half father, with the deepest respect.

And now this man he revered most had become a corpse, lying there before his very eyes—and he did not even know who the murderer was, let alone avenge him. Grief, agony, and despair goaded Lin Jinghong's already somewhat extreme temperament, driving him ever closer to madness.

It was at this moment that a strange sound suddenly came from the woods behind him.

Lin Jinghong started violently and whirled to look. The undergrowth stirred, and a human figure suddenly flashed out from the forest, then darted away with the speed of lightning. The speed was astonishing—even with Lin Jinghong's cultivated eyesight, he could catch only a blurry shadow.

And what did the sudden appearance of a mysterious figure here, at this time and place, mean?

Lin Jinghong's body moved faster than his mind. Almost in the same instant he seized the Dragon-Slaying Sword, transformed into a rushing gale, and gave chase—never once considering how terrifying a man this might be if he truly were the murderer, one whose cultivation was sufficient to kill Wan Jiangu. In Lin Jinghong's heart at this moment there was no thought but revenge. And Wan Jiangu had taught him for ten years that the Dragon-Slaying Sword ever charges forward and never retreats—just as their lives should be!

The black shadow moved with extraordinary speed, and in a flicker it had left the Ancestral Hall. It paused briefly at the three-way fork, then with a whoosh headed straight onto the small path leading to the Phantom Moon Cave. Lin Jinghong burst out in pursuit, his eyes seeming to spit fire. Fixing his gaze on that faint, indistinct figure, he thought no more; his body like lightning, he plunged in an instant onto the path that was meant to be forbidden ground for Qingyun disciples, racing toward the Phantom Moon Cave.

The mountain wind blew, the tips of the branches swayed gently with a rustling sound, and silence soon settled here once more. Only that desolate old man lay quietly on the ground, gazing at the clouds drifting softly across the sky.

********

Though Lin Jinghong had strained every sinew in the chase, he still could not close the distance on that fleeting figure. The trees on either side hurtled past him, yet the dark shape ahead remained forever at the edge of sight, now visible, now gone. By now the first blaze of his fury had ebbed a little, and in spite of himself he felt a cold prickle of alarm.

The stranger's cultivation must be formidable beyond reckoning; even so, Lin Jinghong did not slacken his pace by a single step, but poured all his strength into the pursuit. Then, just at the bend ahead, the faint dark shadow suddenly darted forward and plunged into the blind angle of the mountain's slope, vanishing clean from his sight.