Chapter 109 — The Mystic Fire Altar
劍問蒼天 · Page 2 of 6
Beneath the night, a dozen or more paths, some broad and some narrow, wound and interconnected, branching out like the blood vessels of a human body into the darkness deep within the Burning Cloud Valley. Flanking the roads were ordinary disciples' dwellings or tall and majestic halls; interspersed among these buildings were mostly flowers, grasses, and trees—green bamboo and cold plum, and also brilliant, imposing peonies and herbaceous peonies, clustered in groups and facing one another from afar, blending seamlessly with the surrounding halls, each with a flavor of its own.
Because of the uproar, disciples of the Burning Cloud Valley still moved about from time to time despite the late hour, and Ming Li had to conceal himself carefully lest he reveal his trail. Yet the disciples' faces seemed quite calm, without the astonishment and shock of when the clamor had first begun—which told him the situation at the valley entrance was now well in hand.
These few disciples moving about were naturally no challenge to Ming Li. For ten years he had cultivated the true arts of all three schools—Buddhist, demon, and Daoist—grounded in the uncanny and wondrous arts of the Heavenly Book. The speed of his advancement was simply inconceivable; even the erudite Ming Wang had been astonished, unable to fathom it, and in the end could only attribute it to the principle of joint Buddhist-Daoist cultivation, which perhaps truly held some mysterious affinity that enhanced one's progress.
But though Ming Li hid in the shadows and paid these ordinary Burning Cloud Valley disciples no mind, the dozen or so roads laid out before him gave him a real headache; he did not know which way to go. In secretly infiltrating the Burning Cloud Valley this time, his private intention had been to probe thoroughly what secrets lay within, and best of all to uncover its relationship with those savage tribes of the southern frontier.
To learn such things, he would naturally have to go where the valley's important figures were. Yet these paths before him looked like nothing so much as a maze, a true headache.
Just as Ming Li frowned in thought, considering whether to seize a Burning Cloud Valley disciple and interrogate him, there was a sudden stir at his shoulder, and a faint moan from Little Grey reached his ear.
Ming Li started and turned his head, and his whole body shook. The monkey Little Grey was clutching his clothes tightly with both hands, its face contorted, eyes squeezed shut, as though in pain—but it was a creature of understanding, after all, and knew this was no time for it, so it held back with all its might.
Ming Li's alarm was no small matter. Somehow, ever since they had entered the valley, Little Grey had seemed off; now it appeared something was causing it great suffering.
Reaching out to gently lift Little Grey down, Ming Li examined it closely. The monkey's body trembled faintly in his palm; clearly it was straining every ounce of strength against that nameless agony. Ming Li's worry deepened, and he whispered, "What is it, Little Grey?"
As though hearing its master's voice, Little Grey tilted its head and slowly opened its eyes.
A strange gleam of gold tinged faintly with dark red appeared before Ming Li—like uncanny ghost-fire in the night, or the eerie demon-pupils of the Nine Netherworld below.
The temperature around them seemed suddenly to turn cold.
Little Grey's breathing began to grow louder, and Ming Li clearly felt the monkey's claws gripping his hands with ever greater force, the talons sinking deep into his flesh.
The monkey's mouth slowly opened and closed, but its strange golden demon-gleam stayed fixed on Ming Li, never slackening for an instant. In that gaze Ming Li distinctly felt a familiar bloodthirsty look—the same as his own when he had gone mad in the past...