Chapter 213 — The Inner Demon

In truth, the Fulong Cauldron's magic had long since been transformed beyond recognition over these ten years. With the aid of Mr. Ghost, Hades had fathomed the inscriptions upon the vessel and gathered the spiritual power of divine beasts to awaken the "Four Spirits Blood Array." Within the cauldron at present were already gathered the powers of three divine beasts—the Kui Ox, the Yellow Bird, and the Torch Dragon. Taotie, though a beast of unnatural kind, was decidedly outmatched against the combined force of the other three; and moreover this Fulong Cauldron, an artifact of high antiquity, possessed strange magic of its own—the stronger the divine beasts' power, the more monstrous the demonic force released by the Four Spirits Blood Array. At the first clash, Taotie was at once suppressed.

Now the red radiance flickered, seeming almost solid, wrapping and binding Taotie's great body tight. Taotie trembled all over, in evident agony, yet could not stir in the slightest; even its roars swiftly sank to a whisper, leaving only the sound of labored breathing.

The stench of blood in the chamber grew heavier still. Hades looked upon Taotie, prostrate and unable to move, and a wild joy flashed through his eyes. Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed—a manner wholly unlike his usual self, as if he had gone mad.

In that strange moment there came a sudden furious "zhizhi zhizhi"—and Taotie, bound fast by the red light, turned its head with difficulty to look. It was Little Gray, who had resolutely leaped into the air and come to Taotie's side, reaching out a hand to help. But the red radiance, though it seemed but empty light, gave Little Gray such a shock when its hand touched it that it cried out and sprang away—plainly it had come off the worse.

Little Gray bared its teeth, looking furious beyond measure, and showed its fangs at Hades in open challenge. Hades—one knew not when—beneath that flickering blood-red glow, had seen his own eyes turn blood red. Now he swung about abruptly, killing intent surging in an instant; without another word, a mass of black qi leaped up and shot straight out from the red light, striking at Little Gray.

Little Gray was no easy mark either—a good-for-nothing monkey, to be sure, but angry as it was, it could see the vicious gleam quivering in that black qi, and would not take it head-on; it sprang several times to the side and dodged clear.

The strike missed, and Hades let out a long cry; the black qi instantly doubled in speed, and seemed to split into several strands at once, each like lightning, slashing down from every side.

Little Gray, hands and feet alike, darted hither and thither, barely evading in the space between breaths, yet its peril was plain—several times it came near to being struck by the black qi. And Hades, for some reason, showed not the least mercy even toward such a monkey as this. Amid the black qi came another low cry, and wind and cloud gathered, condensing out of empty air a blood-red palm that smote down from above. Little Gray, already driven to desperate shifts by the black qi, had now no road of retreat; in a moment it would be struck by that crimson palm.

At this critical juncture, an arm suddenly reached out from the side, thrust through the howling, murderous black qi and blood-red glare, seized the monkey by the tail, and yanked. Little Gray's body flew up at once, hurtling backward—and the vicious black qi that had blocked its retreat had, one knew not when, been scattered away.

Little Gray flew clear, escaping with its life. But Hades, hidden deep in the red radiance, seemed to give a roar of fury, his baleful aura rising higher still; the black qi and red glare around him congealed in an instant into shape—a huge crimson palm print—and came down upon that sudden arm. And behind the red light the Fulong Cauldron slowly began to turn; within its body strange radiance flowed, eerie inscriptions flickered in and out of sight, and a killing stillness filled the air.

The blood-red glare dazzled, and in a flicker Ming Li's figure appeared, his face dark as still water—it was he who had saved Little Gray's life at the eleventh hour. At the same time, he turned to face the strange demonic power the Fulong Cauldron had begun to unleash, and, for reasons unknown, had not ceased unleashing.

The howling grew ever more shrill and desolate. Within the blood-red palm print, strange glyphs shaped like the ancient cauldron suddenly flickered into view, and it came straight at him. Ming Li's brows knit tight, yet facing this peerless demonic art he showed no thought of retreat. Both arms swept up, and before the blood-red palm print—flying swift as lightning—could arrive, he traced in the empty air before him a Taiji diagram.

Blue light flared forth, like a clear spring pouring into parched earth; the room's killing aura of blood was shaken. The Taiji diagram rippled with pure qi—it was the orthodox, unadulterated divine art of the Canglan Sect, the "Taiji Profound Purity Way."

The next instant, the blood-red print came crashing down and struck the Taiji diagram.

Beyond all expectation, there was no heaven-shaking boom or clamor; on the contrary, it was like a mud ox sinking into a muddy pool—not the slightest sound. The blood-red print was simply held at bay in midair, unable to advance a single step further—and Ming Li's face in an instant flushed crimson, as though blood would drip from it.

A sharp light flashed in Ming Li's eyes; he cast a deep look into the depths of the red glare, gave a cold snort, and shifted his feet, retreating backward. For every step he retreated, the blood-red print pressed forward a fraction; and at the same time, for every step he retreated, his hands never paused for an instant—fingers flexing and rising, mudras shifting, the Taiji diagram between his palms glowing clear and bright, not weakening in the least.

At the third step back, his hands formed the Treasure Vase mudra, and the unnatural crimson of his face had eased; the edges of the Taiji diagram had begun to shed a faint golden radiance. At the fifth step, his hands shifted to the Flower-Plucking mudra, and the Taiji diagram's gold and blue qi shone each in answer to the other. And when he had retreated the seventh step, Ming Li's back was against the stone wall, no road of retreat left—yet by then his face had returned to its wonted look, with no trace of the unnatural flush.

With a shake of both hands, Ming Li had formed the Buddhist Vajra mudra.

In an instant golden light blazed up, solemn radiance streaming on all sides, as though Buddhas and gods murmured sutras all around—low and sweet to the ear. The Taiji diagram spun rapidly, its golden glow dazzling; the blood-red print was gradually swallowed up into the diagram and vanished from sight.

Golden and blue light filled the sky, dazzling, surging straight upward—it had, in truth, pressed back Hades's blood-red glare. And from deep within the red light came a roar of fury; the man was plainly in a towering rage. The red glow wavered; with a few mournful cries, Taotie on the ground was drawn in by the red light—its enormous bulk sucked into the Fulong Cauldron in the blink of an eye and gone.

Hades's face gradually emerged from within the red glare: white hair flying, eyes crimson, murderous aura billowing—where was the calm, steady man of former days? He looked near enough a slaughtering fiend. And Ming Li, by contrast, showed not a whit of fear; rather he strode forward, pressing the attack.

The Fulong Cauldron turned without cease, the strange inscriptions on its body flickering unendingly, red light pulsing in waves. Hades raised his right hand, and the great ancient cauldron settled upon his palm—he looked like a demon lord descended into the world, utterly terrifying. Ming Li, wreathed in radiance, had plainly gathered all his own divine powers to the utmost as well; here they would fight the decisive battle.