Chapter 256 — The Spirit Tablet

But look closely, and behind that savagery there was another look in the True Man Dao Yan's eyes—one of pain—so that the muscles of his face were contorted, as though he had all along been forcing himself to endure something; yet by the look of it, he was clearly nearing the end of his strength.

At this strange and perilous juncture, the uncanny wind swirling about him blew ever more fiercely, until it set even the heavy offering table sliding faintly backward, and even the distant incense table and spirit tablets behind it were caught up in it; many tablets swayed without cease, and some looked about to topple.

For the True Man Dao Yan, a member of the Canglan Sect, to thus profane the patriarchs' spirit tablets was outright treason against all propriety; yet to judge by his face, the savage qi only grew heavier—how could he spare a thought for such things now?

It was at this moment that a faint "crack" rang out: sure enough, under the gust, one spirit tablet set at the very edge of the incense table could hold no longer and toppled, striking the stone floor with a clear, sharp sound.

The sound seemed to startle the True Man Dao Yan as he struggled on. He turned his head instinctively—and in that instant, for some reason, a great shock ran through him, like a basin of cold water dashed over his head. The savage look receded swiftly, the uncanny black qi somehow withdrew and vanished, and on his face there remained only remorse and grief.

Beneath the dim lamplight, the fallen tablet lay quietly on the ground, motionless. And on the wooden plaque there was—plainly—a blank space.

It was a wordless, empty tablet.

That blankness seemed to be watching him coldly as well.

The True Man Dao Yan's lips began to tremble faintly. He stared blankly at the blank spirit tablet, then slowly walked over, gently picked up the wordless tablet, and carefully turned it over in his hands...

How long passed, none could say; out of the darkness came his hoarse voice, faintly choked: "Junior brother..."

Outside the Ancestral Hall, Lin Jinghong was sweating at the brow with impatience. After struggling with himself countless times, he at last steeled his heart and made ready to rush in regardless of all else and see what on earth had happened in the great hall of the Ancestral Hall—but just as he was about to spring forward, that strange aura within the hall suddenly vanished.

Now Lin Jinghong was thrown into fresh doubt and alarm, and the resolve he had just summoned would not carry his feet forward. After all, whoever was inside the Ancestral Hall, it was the present sect master of the Canglan Sect, the True Man Dao Yan, who had time and again saved the common folk—not only the people of the world, but even the ordinary disciples of the Canglan Sect, Lin Jinghong among them, regarded him as a figure out of legend.

In this hesitation another long while passed. Lin Jinghong had never felt time crawl so slowly; even in these days, alone with the empty wild mountains and the lonely Ancestral Hall, he had never known a mood like this. And it was only when he began to doubt whether his cultivation was insufficient that the figure of the True Man Dao Yan once more appeared at the hall's doorway.

His face was still as blank as ever. He came slowly down and did not favor Lin Jinghong with so much as a glance. Lin Jinghong, whether from awe of the True Man Dao Yan's old authority or some other cause, dared not ask more, and quietly stepped aside. As the True Man Dao Yan passed him, he suddenly paused; after a moment, he heard him say in a low voice: "Take good care of them... all of them!"

Lin Jinghong started, not knowing whom the "them" in the True Man's mouth might mean; but since he had just come from the Ancestral Hall, surely it must mean the spirit tablets of the Canglan Sect patriarchs therein. He nodded and said respectfully: "This disciple understands."

The True Man Dao Yan gave him a long, deep look, his gaze sweeping over him—over the plain white robe Lin Jinghong wore, over the emerald Dragon-Slaying Sword glinting at his waist—and suddenly he gave a bitter laugh: "So very like..."

Lin Jinghong did not catch his meaning at once; he raised his head to ask, but saw that the True Man Dao Yan had already gone—and by the direction he took, he was bound for Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven, the most important forbidden ground of the Canglan Sect. Lin Jinghong hesitated, then at last decided to go first into the Ancestral Hall and have a look. He turned, picked up from the ground the broom he had carelessly tossed aside earlier, and walked in.

He looked all about; everything in the great hall of the Ancestral Hall was as it had been, seemingly unchanged. He frowned and walked to the offering table and incense stand that honored the patriarchs of past generations. In a small bronze censer on the table stood three newly lit sticks of sandalwood incense, burning quietly and giving off a faint sandalwood fragrance.

Suddenly his gaze fixed: on the incense table where the countless spirit tablets were set, one tablet had been placed too close to the edge. He frowned—these past days he had tended this place from morning to night, and knew the positions of the tablets by heart, so he quickly saw that the tablet had been moved. For a disciple of the Canglan Sect to recklessly disturb a patriarch's spirit tablet was no small offense...

He shook his head slightly and went over. He picked up the tablet and was just about to set it back in place on the incense table when his body suddenly convulsed, and his eyes could no longer leave the tablet in his hands.

For on that tablet, unlike the others whose names and honorifics were written in gold lacquer, there had originally been a blank space—but now, on the tablet in Lin Jinghong's hands, a line of writing had plainly appeared: Spirit Tablet of Wan Jian Gu of the Canglan Sect!

That line of writing, a striking crimson, was written in blood!