Chapter 59 — Malice
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 1 of 8
Facing the wild-wolf Daoist in the field was a venerable monk of the Brahma Sound Temple, a man of profound cultivation. He wielded a golden wooden-fish treasure that gleamed brilliantly, darting through the air as though alive as it pursued the wild-wolf Daoist. The wild-wolf Daoist was in a sorry state indeed; the strange fanged treasure in his hand had turned ashen and no longer shone—likely it had been broken by his opponent.
The wooden fish sounded again and again across the field, the golden fish wagging its head and tail in the air as it chased the wild-wolf Daoist, who fled in utter disarray, gasping hoarse breaths, a comical sight. The orthodox cultivators burst into laughter, and Tian Lingsu, with all a young girl's nature, giggled without pause. Zhang Qingyue stood beside her and stole a glance at his senior sister; Tian Lingsu's smiling face was like a flower, two shallow dimples showing at the corners of her snow-white cheeks—she could not have been more enchanting. His heart swam with intoxication, and he wished only that this moment might last forever.
Suddenly a whistle rang out from the field, and Zhang Qingyue looked over: it was the elder Nian who had stepped forth from the crowd to lend aid. His cultivation far surpassed that of the wild dog, and the Red Demon Eye possessed no small power; the venerable monk of the Brahma Sound Temple wiped the smile from his face and responded with care.
After watching for a few moments, Zhang Qingyue suddenly noticed something strange. Among the demon cult, while the wild-wolf Daoist was trapped, apart from Elder Nian, Liu Gao, and a few others whose faces had darkened, most of the rest wore looks of idle amusement, gloating over the misfortune. And when it became clear the wild-wolf Daoist could hold out no longer, only Elder Nian moved to rescue him while the others stood by with folded arms. Zhang Qingyue found it strange, and thought to himself that these demon cult folk truly could not be measured by ordinary reason—could it be that they had factional disputes among themselves?
In fact Zhang Qingyue had guessed more or less correctly. Elder Nian and the wild dog both belonged to the Blood-Refining Hall faction of the demon cult. Eight hundred years ago, under the Black-Hearted Elder, that faction had of course been glorious beyond compare and renowned far and wide; but now it had long since declined and was squeezed out by the mainstream factions of the demon cult. So when they saw the wild dog make a fool of himself, the numerically superior demon cultists did not help at all—instead they stood by grinning and enjoying the show.
Elder Nian was, after all, the head of a faction, and his cultivation was by no means shallow; within a few exchanges he had checked the Brahma Sound Temple monk's assault.
The wild-wolf Daoist seized the opening, caught his breath, and cursed loudly: "You bald thief, you nearly did in your Grandpa Dao!" Even as he cursed he turned and lunged back, joining Elder Nian to attack two against one.
An uproar rose among the orthodox cultivators, and voices cried out one after another: "Shameless to the extreme, you demon cult villains!"
Amid the denunciations, Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt a gust of wind beside him and was startled. It was Tian Lingsu, unable to stay out of the fray, who had rushed forth; the amber-red silk flared with layer upon layer of rosy light, clustering about her graceful figure as she rose into the air.
"Shameless villains, ganging up on one man—Master Fazhong, I will aid you!" Tian Lingsu cried.
Only then did Zhang Qingyue learn that the monk in the field was named Fazhong; by the sound of it he seemed to be of the same generation as Facheng and Fajing, though by appearance he was far older than the two of them.
Seeing Tian Lingsu leap forth, Fazhong in the field intoned a single invocation of the Buddha's name and said: "Many thanks, benefactress."