Chapter 47 — The Scholar

Wan Rengui smiled slightly. "The Azure Cloud sect has long been renowned in the world of Dao cultivation, of distant lineage and profound doctrine, admired by all under heaven. To enter such a famous house at so young an age — the young brother's future is beyond measure."

At the words "beyond measure," Zhang Qingyue felt a stir at heart and, for no reason he could name, thought of Qi Hao of Dragon Peak; and at the last a shadow of Lin Jinghong flickered through his mind. He shook his head. "The scholar overpraises me. Among the disciples of the Canglan Sect are hidden dragons and crouching tigers. I am a piece of rotten wood, good for nothing."

Wan Rengui was taken aback a moment, then burst out laughing. "I never thought the young Mr. Zhang would have a joke in him too."

Zhang Qingyue had no wish to argue the point with him, and asked instead, "From the look of you, Wan, all dust and travel — might I ask where you are bound?"

Wan Rengui rose leisurely, clasped his hands behind his back, and glanced up at the sky. "The world is vast, boundless beyond measure. I wander through it — great mountains and ancient marshes — going wherever I please."

"Ah!" Zhang Qingyue exclaimed. "So that is how it is."

Wan Rengui glanced back at Zhang Qingyue, and all at once a strange smile flickered across his face. "Since the young Mr. Zhang is of the Canglan Sect, surely his Dao arts must be profound."

Zhang Qingyue hastily shook his head. "No, no. I am a good-for-nothing among the Canglan Sect. How could I be called profound in the Dao arts?"

Wan Rengui smiled slightly. "The young Mr. Zhang is too modest. I have a request I should not make, and I hope the young Mr. Zhang will grant it."

Zhang Qingyue was taken aback. "Pray speak, Wan."

Wan Rengui said, "Since childhood I have admired masters of cultivation such as yourself, but my lot was too poor, and I never found the gate by which to enter. And that such masters can ride their treasures through the nine heavens above is what I have dreamed of night and day — for decades now, not a day has passed that I did not long to see a single immortal's treasure with my own eyes. The young Mr. Zhang is a disciple of a famous house — might he grant me this small wish?" And with that he bowed deeply, in a full and formal salute.

Zhang Qingyue was dumbfounded. Seeing Wan Rengui bow, he grew all the more flustered, and hastily caught hold of him. In his heart he was truly at a loss, and after hesitating a moment, seeing Wan Rengui still watching him with a face full of expectation, he sighed. "I would not have Wan laugh at me — it is not that I am unwilling to show you, only, only that the treasure is not fit to be shown in polite company, and I fear it would offend..."

Wan Rengui said at once, "What of that? An immortal's treasure — how could it not be fit for company?"

Zhang Qingyue flushed slightly. In the end he could not set aside his pride; he drew the black iron rod from his waist and handed it over. Seeing such a thing passed to him, a flicker of astonishment crossed Wan Rengui's face too, but it vanished at once, and he received it solemnly.

Zhang Qingyue read his expression and smiled bitterly. "Never mind you — even those of my own sect often laugh at me for it." As he said this, a sudden alarm rose in Zhang Qingyue's heart: he felt that he was very strange today, for before this man he had never met, it seemed he would say anything at all that came to mind.

Wan Rengui, however, had not noticed Zhang Qingyue. His gaze was all upon the black iron rod. At first his face was solemn, though a trace of carelessness still lingered in his eyes; but by degrees it seemed he saw something, for not only did his expression darken, but his eyes fixed themselves dead upon that ugly black stick.

Watching from the side, Zhang Qingyue thought this Wan Rengui looked very strange indeed. Holding the foot-long black iron rod before him, he studied it closely — supporting it with his right hand, while the long slender fingers of his left brushed lightly over its shaft and tapped it gently, with the utmost care. Zhang Qingyue could not help asking, "Wan, is something wrong?"

Wan Rengui started as if woken from a dream. He hesitated a moment, then returned the black iron rod to Zhang Qingyue and said, "Young Mr. Zhang, because I admire the immortal Dao, I have read a few books on the subject, and there are some words I must ask the young Mr. Zhang about."

Zhang Qingyue said, "Pray speak."

Wan Rengui's glance flicked once to the black iron rod. "May I ask the young Mr. Zhang whether this treasure contains your own essence blood?"

Zhang Qingyue was greatly startled. In an instant there flashed through his mind that terrible scene of former days in the secluded valley behind Dazhu Peak, and he sprang to his feet, pointing at Wan Rengui. "You — what did you say?"

Wan Rengui looked at him and said slowly, "May I ask the young Mr. Zhang whether this treasure is two things joined into one?"

One of the secrets hidden deepest in Zhang Qingyue's heart had now been spoken aloud by this man. His shock was no small thing; his head rang with a humming sound, and he could not utter a word.

Wan Rengui saw Zhang Qingyue's astonished face and understood well enough that his guess had struck true. He seemed to bow his head slightly, as though something had come back to him, and sighed faintly. "You did not know, perhaps — the bead on this rod was originally a sacred relic of the demon sect."

Zhang Qingyue grew more and more alarmed, until he could scarcely breathe; yet deep in his heart a voice seemed to laugh coldly: You knew already, you knew already. This rod is so foul and wicked — of course it is a thing of the demon sect.

"You — what did you say?" Zhang Qingyue gasped, staring at him, and bit out each word.

"This bead is a relic of the demon sect's founder, the Old Man of the Black Heart, from eight hundred years ago." Wan Rengui's words fell like nails, one by one, driven into the tip of Zhang Qingyue's heart. "Its name is the Blood-Devouring Bead."

Zhang Qingyue was struck utterly dumb. He held his breath, while a thousand thoughts and ten thousand turnings surged through his mind; yet one image would not be driven away: that skeleton within the secret cave in the belly of Mount Kongsang!

Wan Rengui watched his look of shock, paused a moment, and then said mildly, "Young Mr. Zhang, now that you know the origin of this bead, I wonder whether you would also wish to know the origin of this short black rod?"

Zhang Qingyue's body gave a shudder. He could not speak, but only stared straight at Wan Rengui.