Chapter 32 — The Righteous Path
劍問蒼天 · Page 2 of 6
Urged on by him, Zhang Qingyue found sweat already springing to his brow. His knowledge was limited, but the matter from years ago in the secluded valley—how the Blood Devouring Bead and that strange black staff had clashed and then unexpectedly merged—was, after all, far too bizarre. And it was fierce and malevolent, with the uncanny power to drain vital blood. From things said in daily talk with his senior brothers, he already knew such a thing would never be tolerated by the righteous path. If Tian Buhui learned the truth, the consequences did not bear imagining.
And there was, besides, one other thing deep in his heart that had always been a profound taboo—especially since he had learned that the monk Puzhao was one of the four great divine monks of the Fanyin Temple, and then thought again of that set of oral precepts the man had taught him—
In that single moment he resolved that under no circumstances could he speak of Puzhao, not the slightest word about him.
Tian Buhui stared at him.
Under that piercing gaze, Zhang Qingyue stood up, then knelt down again.
"Master!"
Tian Buhui's brows knitted tightly. He gave a cold哼 and said icily, "Speak."
Zhang Qingyue bowed his head and said slowly, "That black staff—some years ago, when my senior sister and I went together to the secluded valley behind the mountain, I came upon it by chance."
Tian Buhui was slightly taken aback, then recalled that two years ago there had indeed been such an affair. Tian Lingsu had gone into that valley and fallen unconscious for no apparent reason; Su Wan had gone to investigate but found nothing unusual, and later he himself had gone to look, and it was indeed so. The matter had always been a small mystery, but as the days lengthened he had let it fade from mind. Now it seemed all too likely that this black staff was the cause.
But a black staff that could make Tian Lingsu faint without anyone driving it—what manner of malevolent thing was that, and how was Zhang Qingyue able to wield it? The more Tian Buhui thought, the greater his doubts grew. He said in a low voice, "How did you come by it?"
Zhang Qingyue did not dare raise his head, afraid Tian Buhui would see the expression on his face. He had never been a clever man, and now he was more frantic than ever; in his haste he could think of no decent explanation or excuse at all.
Seeing him hesitate—shrewd and seasoned as he was—Tian Buhui at once shouted, "Speak!"
Frightened by him, Zhang Qingyue broke out in a pouring sweat, his heart pounding wildly. He dared conceal no more, and at last gave a rough account of what had happened that day. But even as the words reached his lips, he forcibly swallowed back everything concerning the Blood Devouring Bead. He said only that in the valley that day he had seen the black staff and, out of curiosity, picked it up; whereupon the staff had drawn out his vital blood (in truth it was the Blood Devouring Bead's doing), and he had felt sick and wanted to vomit, and then he had fainted. Before losing consciousness he had dimly seen the black staff draw his vital blood into itself, merging it into the body of the staff.
When he had finished he did not dare lift his head or look at Tian Buhui again. Tian Buhui, however, was frowning, sunk in bitter thought: from the look of it, this youngest disciple did not seem to be lying—such marvels of magical treasures were hardly things he could have invented. But a treasure so strange even he was hearing of it for the first time in his life; if anything resembled this black staff at all, it could only be that great malevolent object of the demon cult from a thousand years ago, the "Blood Devouring Bead."
Yet plainly this black staff was utterly different from that Blood Devouring Bead.
Tian Buhui rose and paced back and forth in the room, hands clasped behind his back, pondering for a long while. Then he turned back to Zhang Qingyue and said, "Get up for now."