Chapter 161 — The Ambush
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 6
Morning on Canglan Mountain, where a cool breeze blew gently, slowly rolling the thin mist across the whole mountain so that it drifted like gossamer through the dense woods. At the three-way fork outside the Ancestral Hall, Ming Li, Master Ghost, and the old sweeper stood in a triangle, locked in a subtle confrontation.
The wrinkles on the old man's face stirred, and he said slowly in a hoarse voice, "You two are not men of Canglan Mountain. Why have you come uninvited to this sacred ground of Qingyun? Might I ask what business you have here?"
Ming Li made no sound, his gaze measuring the old man for a moment. Master Ghost stood six feet to his side. With the cultivation the two of them possessed, there was scarce anyone under heaven they need fear—yet between the two of them, it was plain that neither trusted the other in the slightest.
But at this moment, the eyes hidden behind Master Ghost's black veil were fixed unwaveringly on the old sweeper, bright and piercing, as though stirred by some other, stranger feeling.
The old man sensed something, turned unsteadily, and looked at Master Ghost. "You have been staring at this old relic all this while, honored sir. Is there something you wish to say?"
Master Ghost suddenly laughed. "You are nothing but an old man who keeps the Ancestral Hall of Canglan Mountain. Why meddle in affairs not your own? This young man here—" he pointed at Ming Li, "—has long heard tell of the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven of Canglan Mountain and wishes to go in and see it for himself. Will you let him pass, old sir, or not?"
Ming Li, standing some distance off, gave a sudden cold snort. "Before we climbed this mountain, you and I agreed long ago: I would enter the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven and draw the attention of the Canglan Sect, while you slipped into the Ancestral Hall and destroyed every spirit tablet of every generation of Canglan's founders, giving the Canglan Sect a fine lesson. Why, now that we are here, do you still not go in?"
Master Ghost choked on his words and turned to look at Ming Li, whose face was grave, his expression serious and earnest—so earnest that it was hard to believe no such thing had ever been said. Master Ghost studied him for a good while, then seemed to give a bitter smile and shook his head slightly.
The old man looked at Ming Li, then at Master Ghost. His face slowly grew cold, and the keen light in his eyes kindled brighter. He said mildly, "It seems that, whatever the case, neither of you means well by Qingyun. This is sacred ground, and I have kept watch over it for many a year. If you wish to run riot here, you shall first have to step over this old man's body."
He said this calmly, and facing these two mysterious strangers before him, slowly straightened his back.
In the dense woods on the back mountain at early dawn, the clear, far-carrying birdsong suddenly seemed to falter and die away. Only the mist across the mountain still drifted, clinging about them.
The few decades of a life seemed to flow quietly away in that silence, until they became the fine lines at the corners of one's eyes.
Master Ghost suddenly said, "Is your left hand still well?"
Ming Li and the old man both started. Ming Li, of course, could not understand why Master Ghost had suddenly tossed out such an inexplicable remark—but the old man's body visibly shuddered, and his eyes fixed on Master Ghost and could not be drawn away.
In the early morning, in the thin mist, the old man stared a long while. Then suddenly he let out a long breath, the astonishment on his face gradually fading, and said slowly, "It is you?"
Master Ghost smiled. "It is me."
He paused, his gaze traveling over the old man's face, and even his voice took on a note of feeling. "All these years—how have you aged so dreadfully? Looking at you now, who would ever know you for the Wan Jiangu of Canglan Sect, once renowned throughout the world!"