Chapter 83 — Ten Years

Black clouds coiled across the night sky, and the vault of heaven hung so low and dark it seemed to press down upon the earth. Threads of rain drifted down from the firmament, swept across the vast wilderness in the shrill, whistling wind.

A desolate place, with no village ahead and no farmland behind, wild and overgrown on every side. Only an ancient road stretched in from the distance and, all alone, stretched away again into the far-off.

Low thunder rumbled through the black clouds of the night sky, and the rain over heaven and earth gradually grew heavier.

The land was solemn and still; on the wilderness, apart from the wind and the rain, all was pitch-dark. Only at the roadside burned a single lonely lamp, shedding a little light.

It was a little wilderness inn. The owner, a middle-aged man named He, just past forty, was from Xiaochi Town a day's journey away. Here in this remote place, beside the old road, he had toiled to build himself a crude house, offering travelers from north and south a place to rest their feet and drink tea, and earning a few hard coppers by it.

At this moment Boss He sat behind the counter of his shop, listening closely to the bitter, keening wind and rain outside. His brows drew together slightly and he gave a soft sigh. In such foul weather, most likely no more guests would be coming.

His little house stood between Xiaochi Town and a great mountain to the west called Kongsang Mountain. The old road outside his door had since ancient times been a merchant route, and also the necessary way to the great city of Changhe City in Donghai further east, so travelers passed by from time to time.

Yet now, on this stormy night, in this little wilderness inn there were in fact several guests, sitting silently in the dim, yellow-lit room, sheltering from the bitter wind and wretched rain outside.

"Crackle."

The wick of the oil lamp before Boss He gave a faint sputter, waking this honest middle-aged man from his drowsiness. The sound of wind and rain outside grew sharper and sharper, moaning "woo-woo" as though sobbing. It seemed that tonight these guests would not be leaving.

Thinking so, he raised his head and looked at the guests in his shop. The crude little room held only five tables; at present three had guests beside them. At the farthest corner table sat a lone man, in a dark spot the lamplight could scarcely reach. The man sat there alone, and even his face was blurred.

At the two nearer tables: beside one sat an old man of uncommon bearing and a young girl in the first bloom of youth. By the old man's hand a bamboo pole leaned against the table, with a strip of cloth on it bearing four characters: "The Immortal Points the Way." He appeared to be a fortune-teller of the jianghu.

As for the last table, it had the most people: a merchant caravan of four, with goods piled in the corner behind them. Just now one of the younger men seemed to be softly cursing this cursed weather.

"All right, that's enough," said another of the four, an older man, chiding him. He turned his head and smiled at Boss He, a little apologetically. "Boss He, such wind and rain today, and here we've made you stay up late with us too."

Boss He smiled and shook his head. This merchant caravan often came and went along the old road, and had stopped at his little shop many times, so they counted as regular customers. He said, "It's no trouble. Staying up late is common enough for me. But since the black clouds have been pressing down since daybreak, why are you gentlemen still in such a hurry to travel?"

The old man started at that, then exchanged a glance with the others of his party and smiled bitterly. "Truth is, how could we not know the weather's bad today? But on the road, a man has his difficulties."

Boss He gave an "ah."

The old man lifted the teacup before him and drained it in one go. "Boss He, this world of ours—it's hard!"

Boss He was startled. "What do you mean?"

The old man gave a bitter laugh. "Ten years ago, the Demonic Sect, which had vanished for so long, suddenly reappeared. I hear they even fought a great battle with those immortals of the righteous path at Canglan Mountain. And since then, in these ten years, the Demonic Sect has not only failed to be wiped out by the righteous path—no, they've grown stronger day by day. Everywhere you hear of them fighting the righteous path, back and forth."

Boss He was silent. The old man sighed. "They fight their fights, and we common folk can't meddle in it. But under all this strife the world's fallen into chaos. Nowadays bandits run wild, and robbers and house-breakers are beyond counting. We who make our living out on the road live in constant fear, dreading we'll run into brigands—that's why we've been hurrying on our way. Little did we expect the wind and rain would block us here. Sorry to trouble you, Boss He."

Boss He shook his head. "It's nothing at all. Don't give it a thought..."

Even as he was speaking, a voice suddenly drifted over from the distant corner, saying mildly, "So by that reckoning, sir, you take it that this chaos in the world, these bandits running wild, are all the work of the Demonic Sect you speak of?"

The old man started, and before he could speak, at the table in front with the fortune-teller and the young girl, their gazes too had turned toward them. The girl's eyes were bright, her features lovely, with faint dimples at the corners of her mouth that made her look altogether endearing.

Now she suddenly spoke, smiling at the merchant elder. "Honored sir!"

The old man looked at her. "What is it, miss?"

The young girl said softly, "Sir, your face is thin and full of lines, yet its shape is unbroken—it signifies a life of many twists and turns, yet on the whole safe. Only at the sixth division of your forehead there is a small scar, running across the face, blocking the line of life and the line of wealth. It signifies that in your old age you may meet a great calamity. Seeing your years now, you'd do better to speak a little less, and so invite a little less trouble."

All the merchants changed color. The old man even rose to his feet, staring hard at the old and the young. But the two showed no reaction, wholly composed. After a long moment, the old man's expression shifting uncertainly, he glanced around at those about him, and at last sat back down, cupping his hands to the girl. "Thank you for your guidance, miss."

Once he had sat back down, the little shop fell at once into stillness. The somewhat mysterious man in the corner seemed to have quieted as well, and said no more.

Only the long night stretched on, truly hard to endure. After a good while, the merchants began to chat among themselves, and as they talked back and forth, they came round to that great battle of righteous and demon ten years ago at Canglan Mountain.

These traveling merchants were but ordinary folk, and naturally had never seen the place for themselves. But rumor—that is what rumor is for. And those lofty cultivators of the righteous path had always been shrouded in mystery; they were the best fare for common folk's talk.

As they talked, the voices of the young men gradually grew louder, and the others heard and were drawn in.

"...In short, by then Canglan Sect's situation was desperate, hanging by a thread. Luckily the old immortal Daoyan's powers reached into creation itself—he gave a light point of his finger, and at once thunder and lightning fell from the sky. I hear the crash could be heard a hundred li around, and only then were the Demonic Sect's people driven back!"