劍問蒼天 - 第186章 收魂 - 翰墨軒

Seeing that something was wrong in Xiaowan's expression, Zhou Yixuan stepped forward a few paces. "Xiaowan, what are you doing?"

Xiaowan said in a low voice: "I am going to save him!"

At these words Zhou Yixuan was greatly startled, and even the man in black in the shadows gave a shudder, his gaze fixing at once upon Xiaowan. Zhou Yixuan said, aghast: "What did you say?"

Xiaowan's voice was still low, but her words were utterly clear: "I am going to save him!"

Zhou Yixuan shook his head urgently. "Yes, Xiaowan, I understand what you mean... no, not that—I mean, by what method would you save him?"

Xiaowan reached out and straightened the Wild Wolf Daoist's corpse, then set her hands in a rather strange posture, raised above her shoulder—one hand toward the sky, the other clenched in a fist—and said: "The Daoist died to save us. I... I cannot do nothing."

Zhou Yixuan's brow knit tighter and tighter. Watching Xiaowan next straighten the Wild Wolf Daoist's feet and set the right foot beneath the left, his face grew grimmer still, and suddenly he cried out: "Are you mad, Xiaowan? Do you mean to use the 'Soul Gathering Art'?"

Xiaowan was silent a moment, then said quietly: "Grandfather, this is the only thing I know. Perhaps... perhaps it truly can save a life?"

"Rubbish!" For the first time Zhou Yixuan berated Xiaowan so fiercely, "What nonsense are you speaking? That 'Soul Gathering Art' may have the strange power to gather souls, but this method has always been a heterodox art of the side gates. Not only is it perilous and unpredictable, but to disturb wandering souls is a grave taboo of the ghost realm of the underworld. Do you not want to live? And besides, this art has always been used upon the living—where breath remains, the soul remains, and only on that foundation may the art be cast. What would you do to a dead man? When his breath is cut off, his soul must scatter and perish. Even with this strange art, where would you find his soul? Would you go down into the Nine Hells and search among the countless endless ghosts?"

In the darkness, those eyes gleamed bright, as though suddenly discovering something beyond all belief.

Xiaowan's eyes reddened, and she wept: "Grandfather, he... he has only just died. Perhaps his soul is still nearby, and there may yet be hope. If we delay even a little longer, he truly cannot be saved."

Zhou Yixuan's face went pale. He strode to Xiaowan and pulled her up with one hand, saying in a heavy voice: "Xiaowan, I tell you, do not indulge this fancy. I know what is in your heart. In those years, by your own power, you gathered back the soul of your sister Jin Pingyue when it was about to scatter—but I tell you, that time was not the same as this. I say it again: this art is meant for the living. And such ghost-path heterodox arts greatly damage one's hidden merit. That one time you saved Jin Pingyue, you already diminished your own allotted years by one. Now if you act recklessly again, casting this art upon a dead man, whether it succeeds is doubtful, but at the least you will first ruin the foundation of your own cultivation, and your allotted years will be cut short by twenty or more. Have you thought this through?"

The last few words Zhou Yixuan all but roared. Xiaowan was struck dumb for a moment. She was in the bloom of youth; to say she did not fear death would be nonsense. Yet facing the Wild Wolf Daoist lying on the ground, she could not in any case bring herself to stand idle—but at the thought of those terrible consequences, she seemed unable even to breathe.

The air in that place froze for a time. After a moment, Zhou Yixuan softened his tone and said gently: "Xiaowan, fate is fixed by heaven, and no one can change it. It must be that heaven willed the Wild Dog to die today. If we bury him well, that too may be counted as doing right by him. Will you not agree?"