Chapter 188 — A Sudden Appearance

Ming Li did not understand, but he guessed well enough what the question was. So he said nothing, only raised his head and gestured toward the mountainside with a look. He did not point with his finger, because he still remembered that the Miao people regarded such a gesture as deeply disrespectful.

The two boys started, exchanged a glance, and then one of them, who seemed slightly the elder, shook his head. Neither of them stepped aside. Ming Li felt a faint anxiousness in his heart, yet he was truly unwilling to raise a hand against the kinsmen of the Great Shaman who had once helped him—and seeing the devastation in Seven Li Cave, he could not bring himself to strike.

He was silent for a long while. As the hostility in the two boys' eyes grew heavier and heavier, he sighed, turned around, and made to leave.

But he had taken only a few steps when a commotion suddenly came from up the mountain. He turned to look, and moments later a man came running swiftly down from the mountainside. First he said a few words to the two boys in the Miao tongue; the two nodded repeatedly and stepped to one side. Then this man, who looked to be about forty and seemed a priest of some sort, said to Ming Li in somewhat halting Central Plains speech:

"You... hello. The G-Great... Shaman asks you to come up."

Ming Li was startled and frowned. "The Great Shaman?"

The man nodded repeatedly. Ming Li drew a deep breath, nodded, and followed the man up the slope.

The cave was still there in its original place, but the structures and stone platform at its mouth were utterly changed beyond recognition—broken stones shattered and scattered all over the ground. Among the rubble stood a young Miao man, who looked to be only about thirty, dressed in the robe of the Great Shaman, smiling as he watched Ming Li approach.

His eyes held a faint gleam, as though a passionate flame burned within them—utterly different from the Miao folk down the mountain.

Ming Li walked up to him. The young man smiled slightly and, to his astonishment, spoke in exceedingly fluent Central Plains speech: "Hello, Mr. Ming Li. I am the new Great Shaman of the Miao people of the southern frontier. I have long heard your name."

Ming Li was taken aback, nodded and returned the greeting, and before he could speak, the young Great Shaman was already smiling:

"Please come in. I will take you to see the former Great Shaman."

With that, he led the way, walking into that still-dim cave. Ming Li followed behind him, slowly melting into the darkness as well.

The cave was as dark as ever; the young Great Shaman's figure swayed faintly ahead. Somehow, Ming Li felt he looked familiar. After thinking carefully, he remembered: the last time he had come here, the Great Shaman had once called this young man out. He had never imagined that after so short a time, the man had already succeeded to the position of Great Shaman.

As before, the young Great Shaman came with Ming Li to the room deep within the cave that enshrined the Hound God. The great fire still blazed, crackling and spitting, but the withered, ancient figure was nowhere to be seen.

The young man stepped forward and bowed squarely to the statue of the Hound God. Then, from the hound's jaws, he drew forth a carved wooden box and set it respectfully upon the ground. "It is our Miao custom," he said to Ming Li, "that when a Great Shaman of any generation passes, his ashes are enshrined beneath the Hound God's image for a full year. This is the old man's remains."

Ming Li was silent. He looked at the small wooden box, plain and unadorned, without the least ornamentation, made even of the commonest timber of the southern frontier. The Great Shaman, like countless Miao folk before him, slept quietly here.

Ming Li bent and bowed deeply.

Grey Monkey gave a squeak, leaped down from his shoulder, and scampered off on its own.

Following the customs of the Central Plains, the young Great Shaman likewise bent and returned the bow. Then he lifted the plain box with great care and placed it once more within the Hound God's jaws.

The two sat on the ground beside the fire. The flames mirrored in their eyes, bright in the darkness.

Before Ming Li could ask, the young man said quietly, "I was his disciple in his lifetime. After the terrible calamity passed, all the elder priests here were dead, and so I inherited the position of Great Shaman."

Ming Li nodded silently. His gaze drifted unbidden to the distant image of the Hound God, and he said slowly, "The Great Shaman died in some part for my sake. Whenever I think on it, I am uneasy at heart."

The young Great Shaman inclined himself slightly. "You are mistaken. My master told me long ago that his span of years was spent, that even had he not gone to the Central Plains, death was the only road left him. Rather, it is thanks to your sect that my master's ashes were brought home—and that is a great fortune for all the Miao people."

Ming Li sighed and said in a low voice, "Those deeds were done by other hands with other purposes. They have little to do with me."

The young Great Shaman smiled, plainly unmoved by Ming Li's words. "Yet this time, when you came to our Seven Mile Gorge, I do not know what your purpose is."

Ming Li said, "Nothing else, truly. I came only to pay my respects to the Great Shaman. Beyond that—this calamity was so violent, and I mean to hunt down the Beast Lord who was its chief author. I wonder whether you have any clue to his whereabouts?"

The young Great Shaman's expression shifted slightly; plainly the words "Beast Lord" were still a dreadful and taboo thing to him. He fell silent, and after a long while Ming Li said mildly, "Think nothing of it. Countless people in this world have sought him and failed; it is only natural that you would not know. I have intruded upon you long enough—I shall take my leave."

With that he made to rise. A look of hesitation crossed the young Great Shaman's face, and suddenly he said, "You mean to track down that Beast Lord—is it true?"

Ming Li said, "It is."

The young Great Shaman stared hard at him. "Can you kill him?"

Ming Li was silent a long while. "I cannot be certain."

The young Great Shaman pondered a moment. "Since that is so, I shall tell you what I know.

How the Beast Lord may be found, I do not know. But there is an old legend among my people: that the Beast Lord is a demon, a ghost-thing that cannot be killed—only suppressed and sealed, as the Shamaness did ten thousand years ago. To suppress him, one must wrest from his body five sacred relics of the various tribes of our southern frontier. Those five relics are the very source of the beast-fiend's life; bereft of them, he must surely fall into deep slumber. There is one other thing of importance. In the days when that beast-fiend ran rampant, his demonic power was at its height and none could stand against him. It was only thanks to the Shamaness trapping him in a wondrous formation handed down among the shaman folk—the Eight Wraiths Mystic Fire Formation—that he was contained. If you could find that formation, perhaps..."

Ming Li nodded slowly.

The young Great Shaman thought a while, then added, "How to find the beast-fiend, I truly cannot conceive. But our tribe's legends say that when the Shamaness sealed him, it was deep in the Hundred Thousand Savage Mountains, in a place called the Ancient Cave of Demon Suppression. And they say the Shamaness herself turned to stone, facing into the depths of that ancient cave. Perhaps if you find such a place, you will find some trace of the beast-fiend."

Ming Li committed each word to memory and nodded to the young Great Shaman before him. "My thanks."

The Great Shaman smiled faintly and said no more.

As the two walked out of the cave, Ming Li could not refrain from asking him why there was no grief at all in his eyes.