劍問蒼天 - 第157章 秘密 - 翰墨軒

Wild Wolf Daoist looked at her and said nothing. Zhou Yixuan said impatiently, "How can you be so muddled? Ming Li's cultivation is deep—what is there to fear for him? And besides, they are dogs biting dogs—no, wait, one is called Ming Li and the other Mr. Ghost, so I suppose it is ghost fighting ghost. Ghost fighting ghost—what has that to do with us? Hurry, hurry!"

With that he took Xiaowan by the hand and set off. Xiaowan hesitated a moment, but in the end let Zhou Yixuan pull her away. Wild Wolf Daoist glanced back once at the gloomy house flickering with strange lights—wild radiance leaping, and faintly the roar of a fierce wind—and a complicated look came into his eyes. He said nothing, paused a moment, then turned and hurried after Zhou Yixuan and the others.

********

Within the gloomy house, a little over half a cup of tea's time had now passed. The room, cluttered to begin with, was now a scene of utter ruin—broken stone and shattered wall everywhere, and even the floor, dilapidated before, now looked as though an earthquake had passed and then an ox had dragged a plow across it: clods heaved unevenly, stones jutting up, scarcely a spot left to stand.

Ming Li and Mr. Ghost now both floated in midair, having paused for the moment, gazing at each other, and both seemed to be breathing a little hard. Only Little Gray on Ming Li's shoulder seemed restive; bored, it opened its mouth in a yawn and stretched.

Mr. Ghost suddenly said, "I never imagined your cultivation could advance so swiftly. In but ten years you have managed to fuse the true arts of Daoism, Buddhism, and the demonic path into one—truly no small thing."

Ming Li looked at this mysterious man in black and said coldly, "Nor did I imagine that you were not of the demonic sect at all, but a man of the southern borderlands' shamanic ghost path."

At this his eyes suddenly showed a dark red light. Fixing them on Mr. Ghost, his voice turned ice-cold: "Since you know the ghost path so well, then the art to restore Bi Li's soul—you..."

Before he could finish, Mr. Ghost cut in: "You are wrong. I know a little of the ghost path's strange arts, but the soul-restoring method is a secret art of the Black Shaman clan of the southern borderlands, and I do not know it. Otherwise, given my friendship with the Ghost King, I would long since have restored Miss Bi Li."

Ming Li watched him coldly, the red light flickering uncertainly in his eyes, as though weighing whether Mr. Ghost's words could be believed. Mr. Ghost, for his part, was silent a moment, then suddenly said, "Since you are set on protecting those three tonight, then for the sake of our both belonging to the Ghost King Sect, I will spare them this once. There is little point in you and me fighting here—let us call a halt."

Ming Li sneered inwardly. He was long past the ignorant youth he had once been; in that harrowing contest just now, had his cultivation been insufficient or his concentration slipped once, he would have died a hundred times over—and at such a moment no one would have spoken of their both belonging to the Ghost King Sect. Yet Mr. Ghost was truly an unfathomable figure. Though Ming Li did not fear him, that contest had shown him the man's arts were uncanny and that he was a most difficult adversary, and he was unwilling to press him rashly. So he nodded and said mildly, "As you wish."

Mr. Ghost drifted slowly down. The gloomy house was now a shambles; most of the original coffins had burst asunder, and only the one set upon the yin ground remained whole. Mr. Ghost alighted upon it, was silent a moment, and said, "What brings you to Canglan Mountain?"

Ming Li said coldly, "And what brings you?"

Mr. Ghost said indifferently, "The world is in chaos—a time of turmoil, with beast-demons running rampant. This clash between the orthodox path and the beast-demons at Qingyun is now unavoidable. How could I not come to see such a grand spectacle?"