Chapter 131 — Parting
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 5 of 6
Just as Jin Pingyue, bored, was about to close her eyes and doze off, the witch-fiend's figure at last stirred. Jin Pingyue roused herself and quickly looked closely.
She saw that the black-robed witch-fiend, as though after long brooding or struggle, had at last come to a decision; before the woman's statue he silently bent his body and made a respectful bow.
From afar Jin Pingyue saw the witch-fiend say something low to the statue, but the distance was too great and she could not catch a single word. Then the witch-fiend's body slowly turned and drifted toward the depths of the Demon-Quelling Cave.
Jin Pingyue's brows knit tight, the riddle in her heart growing ever larger. There was plainly some great secret in that ancient cave, very likely the whereabouts of the mysterious figure Shangguan Lue and the witch-fiend had spoken of. But in this utterly desolate place of barren hills and foul waters, how could there be such a woman's statue, standing just so at the very center of the cave's mouth?
And from the witch-fiend's manner before the statue, he was plainly close to it—there must be some past between them that could not be told.
Just as Jin Pingyue saw the witch-fiend about to vanish into the ancient cave, and made ready to lean out and creep closer to look at the statue, the witch-fiend's body suddenly halted.
Jin Pingyue was startled, nearly believing she had exposed herself in her eagerness, and cursed herself inwardly. In her alarm she saw that the witch-fiend had not turned to look her way at all, and did not seem to have discovered her.
Only then did she put her heart at ease. She hastily hid herself again, then once more cautiously poked her head out and looked toward the ancient cave.
And at that look her eyes went wide and fixed.
Just before the woman's statue, at the mouth of the Demon-Quelling Cave, a mass of white vapor suddenly sprang up in midair, in sharp contrast to the black mist and sinister wind around it. And the witch-fiend too had stopped, silently watching this white vapor.
The white vapor gathered more and more, gradually taking form, shaping itself into a human figure. Seen from where Jin Pingyue lay, it was plainly a tall man, a great sword in his right hand and a great shield in his left. His body was wholly composed of white vapor, swaying unsteadily in the sinister wind, yet the movements of his body and even the expression on his face were utterly clear and distinct.
Jin Pingyue was struck dumb. After a long moment she drew in a breath of cold air and murmured low, "What a ghost!"
She was of the demon cult by origin, and so she knew a thing or two about such ghostly matters: it was said since ancient times that when a person lives out their years and dies, only the soul does not perish; when one lifetime ends, the soul leaves the body and goes to be reborn, life after life, in an endless cycle. Yet in this world there also exist vengeful spirits, who, by the three poisons of greed, wrath, and delusion, and by dread, loathing, and fear, cling to the mortal world, look back upon the life behind them, and refuse to be reborn—these are the "yin spirits."
In those days, when Ming Li was still Zhang Qingyue, a minor disciple of the Canglan Sect, he and Lu Xueling had fallen together beneath the Abyss of the Dead in the Ten-Thousand-Bat Cavern of Kongsang Mountain. There, by the shores of the Heartless Sea, they had encountered countless yin spirits from the depths of the abyss. But those yin spirits were all the souls of ordinary mortals, slain by the Blood-Refining Hall in years past and unable to pass on; though a common person who met them would surely be harmed, in the eyes of cultivators they were no fearsome demons at all, and so Zhang Qingyue and Lu Xueling, though their arts were then unperfected, had still held out a long while.