Chapter 253 — The Offering

Ming Li's brows knitted tight, his expression complex. Though he and this Ghost Master had ever been more enemies than friends, at this moment, with the man at death's door, his heart suddenly grew tangled. He wished to say something to comfort him, yet could think of no fitting words to comfort the Ghost Master now.

Just as the wounded Ghost Master's gasping began to fade, suddenly this dying man seemed to remember something. From somewhere in that ruined body the strength came—he abruptly seized Ming Li's hand in a fierce grip.

Ming Li started, and looked at him in astonishment. "What is it?"

"You... go... find..." The Ghost Master was in agony, his voice strained to the breaking point; each word seemed to cost him untold torment, yet he endured it still, struggling to speak his last words to Ming Li one syllable at a time.

Even Ming Li, hard-hearted as he was, could not but change countenance. He said gravely, "Speak. Who am I to find?"

"Find... Xiao... Huan..."

Ming Li's body jolted. He never in any way could have expected that the Ghost Master, at the point of death, would suddenly say such a thing. With a note of disbelief, stunned, he said, "Find Xiao Wan? What for?"

The strength in the Ghost Master's grip on Ming Li's hand slowly ebbed, yet still he struggled to bring out the words one by one: "Tell... her... to go... save... save... save..."

After that word "save," the Ghost Master seemed to have spent his last reserve of strength. The light in his eyes grew fainter and fainter, his whole body slowly went limp, and even the sound of his breathing gradually could no longer be heard.

Ming Li and Xiao Wan shared a deep connection, and he had always been fond of the girl, regarding her rather like a younger sister. Now to hear that the Ghost Master's dying words concerned Xiao Wan—and to see how the man struggled on in such agony—it was clearly a matter of grave importance. Yet at present the Ghost Master had spoken only half his meaning and looked very much about to pass from this world. In alarm, Ming Li flung himself down, brought his ear close to the Ghost Master's lips, and cried loudly, "You're telling Xiao Wan to go save whom? Speak quickly!"

The Ghost Master's lips moved, as though he had heard Ming Li's cry. He gasped rapidly a few times, then, in a voice Ming Li could barely catch, struggled out his final words: "Save... Qing... Yun... back... mountain..."

The words grew fainter toward the end, well-nigh inaudible; and when at last he breathed out a "mountain" that could scarcely be heard at all, the Ghost Master's body gave a sudden shudder, then went entirely slack. His breath ceased—and thus he passed away.

Ming Li froze for a moment, then slowly laid the Ghost Master's body upon the ground, his mind full of questions. The back mountain of Qingyun? What did that mean? If he had heard aright, the Ghost Master's final words must refer to the Canglan Mountains—but the Canglan range stretched a thousand li, its peaks rising and falling; from where, then, did one begin to speak of "the back mountain"? The Canglan Sect occupied the seven highest peaks among them, and each peak did indeed have its so-called back mountain—but to go save "the back mountain of Qingyun," what was that supposed to mean?

The Ghost Master had died midway through his words. Ming Li pondered a moment, then sighed and glanced at the dead man. Seeing that his eyes were still half-open and had not closed, he reached out and shut them, saying in a low voice, "If ever I chance to meet Xiao Wan, I will pass your words on to her for you. Only your words are so muddled that I fear even she will not make sense of them."

That said, he rose and looked up into the distance. Upon the Dragon-Subduing Cauldron the red shadow was now more than half substantial and on the verge of manifesting fully—its whole body red as fresh blood, though its head was still shrouded in a mass of blood-essence, indistinct. Ming Li frowned; unwilling to tarry here any longer, he turned to leave—when of a sudden something stirred in his heart, and his steps faltered once more.

In that instant, a thought had abruptly risen in his mind—like an irresistible temptation.

He turned his body and looked again at the corpse of the already-dead Ghost Master. Upon that black figure the black veil still covered the face. Ming Li stared at the veil for a moment, and suddenly felt a powerful urge to lift it and see just what sort of face lay beneath.

But after a moment, he at last abandoned the thought, turned, and left.

When Ming Li left the blood-pool cavern, Xiao Hui, perched on his shoulder, was still whimpering softly. Ming Li said nothing. Though he felt some reluctance over the four spirit beasts in the blood pool, the place behind him now was truly the most dangerous deathtrap in all the world. Even with his present cultivation, Ming Li knew in his heart that against that terrifying, dreadful, mysterious power, he had not the slightest chance of victory.

The stone walls and the ground all around were still trembling. Though he knew Bi Li had the Ghost King himself to guard her and that nothing should go amiss, Ming Li still felt a measure of anxiety. This was a calamity such as had never been seen before, and plainly the strange formation the Ghost King had laid out was showing every sign of slipping beyond control. Ghost Gentleman, at the very least, was the best proof of that.

No matter what—even if the Ghost King opposed it—he should take Bi Li and leave this place first.

Mount Foxqi was far too dangerous now.

With this settled in his mind, Ming Li quickened his pace and swept back the way he had come. In an instant he reached the fork where two passage entrances met. He was just about to dart into the cave mouth he had entered by when his body suddenly froze. He had caught sight of a red light flashing deep within what should have been a pitch-black cave passage—and that red light was speeding toward him.

Something stirred in Ming Li's heart. Without quite knowing why, as if by pure instinct, he twisted his body and slipped into the other passage. He hid himself in a dark corner with his back against the wall, held his breath, and quietly gathered Xiao Hui from his shoulder into his arms, covering its mouth with his hand.

Xiao Hui had long since become attuned to such things. As though it understood something, it fell silent at once and lay motionless in Ming Li's arms.

The passage sank into stillness, but that silence did not last long. After a moment, a sudden rushing howl came from that other passage, mingled with heavy gasping breaths. Somehow, it sounded more like a wild beast than a man.

"Pa!"

A tall figure shot out of the passage and landed on the ground. Seen from behind, that silhouette was unmistakably the Ghost King's—and yet the man before him now was utterly different from the usual Ghost King. His clothes had somehow become tattered, and his limbs and torso seemed, strangely, a size larger than before.

Low, crackling pops kept sounding from the Ghost King's body. What they were, no one could say, but an extremely familiar smell drifted plainly from him.

The thick stench of blood!

From his dark corner, Ming Li watched that figure coldly.

The Ghost King did not linger long where he stood. After landing, he glanced briefly around, then strode off toward the red glow at the far end of the platform. He walked fast, urgently, as though something he desperately craved awaited him ahead—so urgently that he did not even closely examine the strange bloodstains on the ground around him.

When the Ghost King's figure vanished into the cave where that dark red glow flickered, Ming Li slowly stepped out of the darkness. He stared at that place, strange lights flickering in his eyes, and none could tell what he was thinking.

Xiao Hui slowly climbed up from his arms, settled on his shoulder, and gave two soft cries.