Chapter 195 — Old Ground
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 5
His devotions now complete, Tian Buhui stepped forward to set the incense into the burner, but his body abruptly froze, and even the hand holding the incense stopped in midair.
In an instant the great hall fell into utter dead silence. The two figures, one standing, one seated, seemed both to have stiffened, motionless. The distant yellow banners, for no discernible reason—as though a breeze had passed through the hall—fluttered softly a few times, then slowly stilled again.
Outside the Ancestral Hall, Lin Jinghong was frowning in deep thought when something seemed to strike him. He jerked his head up and stared deep into that quiet, dim hall, a look of faint astonishment on his face.
In a daze, that hall which had lain so quietly sleeping seemed like a beast roused from slumber, coldly opening its eyes.
How long passed, no one could say. The mysterious ghostfire in Immortal Daoyan's eyes suddenly died away again—coming abruptly, and departing just as swiftly. As those uncanny eyes slowly closed, the grim hall at once eased; the surrounding candlelight too gradually lost its brilliance and returned to its former faint glimmer.
The slender incense in Tian Buhui's hand still burned softly, three tiny points of fire showing faintly in the dark. But as the sticks trembled, flakes of ash like white catkins drifted gently down and fell upon his hand.
Tian Buhui's face was indifferent. He glanced coldly at the ash on the back of his hand, stood silently a moment, then gave his hand a gentle flick to shake the ash away. Then he stepped forward and reverently set the three sticks of incense into the burner.
Six slender sticks burned together in the burner, their light smoke drifting and curling upward.
Without a word, Tian Buhui bowed three times more to the spirit tablets, then slowly turned around to face the figure seated on the rush cushion upon the floor.
"Senior Brother Daoyan," he said slowly, gazing deeply at the man, his eyes—for some reason—filled at once with astonishment and grief and indignation, and a faint, hidden pain as well. "We meet again!"
Most of Immortal Daoyan's face was shrouded in shadow, impossible to see clearly. To Tian Buhui's words he seemed utterly deaf, giving no response at all, sitting as quietly as before.
Tian Buhui stood and looked at him a while, saying nothing more, though the expression on his face only grew heavier. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly; he took a step, walked to Immortal Daoyan's side, and sat down upon another rush cushion less than three feet away.
The great hall was utterly still.
The southern borderlands, the Ten Thousand Wild Mountains, the scorched black peak.
Along the way the eerie howls of ghosts grew ever louder, and a sinister wind—no one knew from where—whistled without cease, cutting at the flesh like knives. Had Ming Li and Jin Pingyue not both been deep in cultivation, those wailing ghosts and that freezing evil wind alone would likely have been enough to drive a person mad.
Yet though the sinister air around them grew ever thicker, and the two of them kept ever more carefully on guard, they met with no danger and no ambush—not even when they reached the foot of the valley, where they could already see from afar the deep, pitch-black mouth of the Ancient Cave of Demon Suppression. This place, spread across the mountains like a realm of ghosts, was incredibly quiet: not to speak of fierce beast-demons, even the venomous insects and savage beasts that had been everywhere since they entered the Ten Thousand Wild Mountains had vanished without a trace.
This grim place seemed, in fact, to be the safest spot in all the barren, treacherous Ten Thousand Wild Mountains.
Ming Li and Jin Pingyue stood upon a small hill, gazing at that ancient, deep cave from afar. Faintly, they could still make out the stone statue standing at the cave's mouth.
Both wore slight frowns. Here, at this place, the unexpected calm brought them only greater misgiving.