Chapter 63 — The Ghost King

In a flash the Seven Stars Sword spun upward, its radiance blazing, and came to rest at the very center of the Taiji diagram, ringing with a ceaseless "zheng, zheng, zheng, zheng." A moment later the Seven Stars Sword shot forth swift as lightning, and around its blade a wheel of Taiji light spun and flowed, its might so terrible it could not be withstood.

In an instant, the two magic treasures collided in midair with a thunderous crash!

"Rumble—"

Where the great sound passed, the halos that burst forth from the collision of the two treasures rushed swiftly outward. The whole stone cave rang and shook without cease, and the rock walls above could not withstand the tremendous impact; stones large and small came tumbling down.

Zhang Qingyue and Tian Lingsu felt the shaking around them too, and could scarcely keep their footing. Their hearts were filled with even deeper admiration: this Little Zhou's cultivation in the Taiji Xuanqing Dao was likely a shade stronger than that of any young disciple of the Canglan Sect he had ever seen.

In the arena, the radiance of Bili's white wall of flowers faded and vanished. Her face was somewhat pale—plainly she had come off the worse. Zhang Qingyue had spent some time in her company, and his heart cried out that this was bad; he guessed she would never let the matter rest. Sure enough, a flash of anger crossed Bili's face, the Heartbreak Flowers flickered and were drawn back, and her hand went to her waist and grasped that clear, lovely little golden bell.

Little Zhou frowned and gathered himself on guard. This young woman before him was young, but her cultivation was already beyond his expectations. Just now he had struck with nine-tenths of his power, and still could only slightly discomfit her—yet by the look of her, she seemed to have an even stronger magic treasure. And what he feared most was still the man standing silently in those shadows: truly unfathomable, and the great danger at the heart of it all.

Then came the clear sound of the bell, "ding-ding-dang-dang," ringing out—utterly incongruous in this cave so thick with killing intent. Bili stood lightly in midair, her hands gently brushing the air, and a little golden bell floated slowly before her, ringing clear.

Looking from where Zhang Qingyue stood, he saw that beautiful woman in midair, her hands soft as boneless things, gently dancing. The golden bell spun slowly between her hands, giving out its clear notes from time to time.

"Ding-dang," "ding-dang," "ding-dang."

Little Zhou suddenly shuddered, startled to realize that he had fallen into a trance and had nearly forgotten he stood at the brink of life and death. Had his Dao-heart not been firm these many years, his spirit would already have been lost. This little bell seemed to have the power to hook and bewitch the soul.

In that mere moment of hesitation, his mind was struck by another wave of numbness. He was greatly alarmed, and dared not listen any longer. He shouted: "Die, demon!"

That shout shook the four walls and forced the "ding-dang" sound down for a moment; the Seven Stars Sword, swift as lightning, light as light itself, came crashing toward her!

Bili's face paled slightly, and she seemed to be struggling somewhat. Yet seeing the Seven Stars Sword shoot toward her, she did not retreat a step. With a flick of her jade-white right fingers she plucked outward, and the Heart-Joy Bell went to meet it. With a sound, it struck the Seven Stars Sword in midair.

Little Zhou's body shook. He felt that demonic note pierce his ears and eat into his bones, coming at him through the air along the Seven Stars Sword itself, and in an instant his whole body was trembling.

Zhang Qingyue and Tian Lingsu were greatly alarmed and were just about to go to his rescue, when they saw Little Zhou's face suddenly grow calm. He gave a great shout, the Seven Stars Sword's radiance blazed anew, and he counterattacked. Bili, by contrast, had gone deathly pale, and her gaze had grown somewhat dull, as though her spirit had suddenly been snatched away. She seemed powerless to stop him, and it looked as though she would die beneath the Seven Stars Sword.

Zhang Qingyue's heart lurched, and for a moment his mind went blank. Heedless of everything, he leaped out and cried out in dismay: "Don't—"

Before his voice had died away, a shadow swept across the air, and a flash of purple aura and cold light flickered and was gone.

With a sound, Little Zhou was struck back bodily and crashed to the ground, bright red blood at once running from the corner of his mouth. The Seven Stars Sword was sent flying too, and with a sound was driven by main force deep into the hard rock wall.

Zhang Qingyue and Tian Lingsu turned pale with fright and leaped to Little Zhou's side. Tian Lingsu was about to summon the Amber Red Silk when Little Zhou, forcing down the agony, caught hold of them both and said in a hoarse voice: "No—Junior Brother Zhang, Junior Sister Tian, that man, that man's cultivation is too high. You are no match for him!"

Zhang Qingyue was stunned, and beside him Tian Lingsu could not help asking: "How do you know our names?"

Little Zhou opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped, and looked ahead. The two of them sensed something, and turned their heads together to look at Bili.

There in midair, a middle-aged man with his back to Zhang Qingyue and the others was supporting Bili as they descended together. He said mildly: "Yao'er, this Heart-Joy Bell is a divine artifact left behind by Lady Golden Bell. Your cultivation is not sufficient; to use it recklessly makes you easy prey to its backlash. Do not use it lightly hereafter!"

By now Bili's color was gradually returning to normal. She said in a low voice:

Zhang Qingyue and the other two were struck dumb all at once. Little Zhou seemed somewhat better by now as well; he stared at the man's back and said in a deep voice: "Can it be that you are the Ghost King, one of the four great masters of the Demonic sect today?"

The middle-aged man smiled faintly and turned around, and Zhang Qingyue and the others saw his face clearly. He had fine brows and a square face, and his features were refined and mild—utterly unlike those fierce, rough Demonic adherents of a moment ago. Yet Zhang Qingyue was all the more astonished, and said in amazement: "It is you?"

This King of Hell, who wore the look of a middle-aged scholar, was none other than Wan Rengui—the very man who had told him, that day at the tea stall at the foot of Kongsang Mountain, the secret of the dark iron staff.