Chapter 141 — Bewilderment

It looked as though Little Gray would tear the Wild Wolf Daoist to pieces, its huge body plunging down from midair, while Zhou Yixuan and little Wan stood frozen at the side, not knowing what to do. Then suddenly a bizarre change came over Little Gray: its enormous body abruptly tilted backward, and in a most bizarre and comical posture, with a thud, it sat down on the ground, rear first.

"Bang!"

Yet even in sitting it managed to look imposing and mighty. Little Gray gave a "woo" that plainly betrayed its great bewilderment, scratched at its head with a giant hand, and turned to look.

Zhou Yixuan, little Wan, and the Wild Wolf Daoist—who had narrowly escaped with his life—all turned to look as well.

Mingli, who had somehow regained consciousness, had appeared behind Little Gray. His face was desolate, but his right hand had seized Little Gray's tail. It must have been he who, at that critical instant, had pulled Little Gray down from midair and thereby saved the Wild Wolf Daoist's life.

Little Gray blinked its three eyes, then suddenly roared a few times at this man who was less than half its height. Mingli only shook his head gently.

Little Gray's body suddenly swayed, and a moment later came a chorus of cracking and popping from its bones. Before the dumbstruck eyes of Zhou Yixuan and the others, the giant ape shrank rapidly, and in a short while its vast frame had become the same lovable three-eyed monkey as before. It glanced around the ground for a moment, then with a whoosh darted back onto Mingli's shoulder.

Mingli slowly reached out and stroked the monkey's head. Little Gray rolled its three strange eyes, looking rather reluctant, gave two "cheep cheep" cries, and jabbed a finger toward the Wild Wolf Daoist.

The Wild Wolf Daoist's heart lurched—then he saw that Mingli was looking at him too, and heard him say, "You want to kill me?"

The Wild Wolf Daoist's expression shifted, dark and bright by turns, and he felt little Wan's astonished gaze upon him from the side. Yet somehow, beneath that gaze, an indescribable sorrow welled up in his heart, and the words burst from his mouth almost against his will:

"That's right, I do want to kill you! You wiped out my entire Blood Refining Hall, killed so many of my fellow disciples—is it not right that I take my revenge on you today?"

Mingli did not speak, only regarded him coldly. But Little Gray on his shoulder had now fallen quiet, and gave a "cheep" that seemed to be mocking the Wild Wolf Daoist.

Under Mingli's gaze the Wild Wolf Daoist grew thoroughly uncomfortable, and little Wan's silence at his side unsettled him all the more. Unable to bear the torment, he clenched his teeth and snarled, "Kill me if you're going to kill me—what are you staring at?"

Slowly, Mingli withdrew his gaze from the fierce-looking but faint-hearted Wild Wolf Daoist before him, and the expression on his face gradually began to change.

A touch of bleakness, a touch of loneliness, a touch of grief, a touch of anguish...

"Why would I kill you? If killing could save her, I would long ago have slaughtered every soul under heaven..." he murmured to himself, his voice soft and drifting. "Ten years. What have I done in all these years but kill? For what, exactly, am I still alive?..."

His face was desolate. He turned slowly and, paying no more heed to anyone, walked away alone.

The Wild Wolf Daoist was stunned. But little Wan, standing beside him, suddenly changed expression and bolted after Mingli. Zhou Yixuan was greatly alarmed and reached out to catch her—but caught only empty air.

Little Wan ran a short way, caught up with Mingli, and seized his hand. "What's wrong with you? Where are you going?"

At her question, Mingli felt for a moment as though the whole world had suddenly convulsed, and only those four words echoed thunderously in his ears!

"Where are you going?... Where are you going?... Where are you going?..."

"Where... can I go?"

The man suddenly lifted his head and gazed up at the vault of heaven!

That pitch-black canopy, deep and dark and unfathomably profound, held not a single gleam of light. The darkness that filled the sky came pouring down, overwhelming everything, and drowned his figure beneath it...

Where should I go...

In the darkness, a soft whisper asked, low and faint.

At the southern frontier, Qili Gorge.

An air of desolation hung over the whole valley. Countless Miao people poured in from every direction and lined both sides of the road leading up to the mid-mountain altar—old men, children, sturdy youths, women. In every eye lay boundless sorrow. Some of the women began to weep softly, and soon choking sobs rose from every part of the crowd.

Qinglong followed behind the Miao chieftain, Tu Magu, bearing solemnly in his hands the small blue-and-white urn that held the ashes of the departed Great Shaman, and walked slowly toward the altar.

Every pair of eyes was fixed on that small blue-and-white urn. The young men clenched their fists, the women wept, and the faces of the old held nothing but bleak desolation.

Chieftain Tu Magu too had remained silent, his face ashen—yet he plainly accepted the truth better than the other Miao.

Through the crowds lining the way, through the sorrowful gazes, the mountain wind blew gently, brushing over the little urn as though with a soft sound—like a song, like a quiet consolation.

This was, after all, the soil of his homeland!

Qinglong was a man who had witnessed countless great scenes, yet at this moment his face was grave and solemn. Step by step he followed behind Chieftain Tu Magu until they came to the front of the mid-mountain altar.

On the platform before the altar, a ring of shamans had already gathered. The eldest had hair streaked with white; the youngest still had raven hair—yet in their eyes shone the same reverence.

The shaman who appeared oldest stepped slowly forward, bowed deeply to Qinglong, and spoke a few words in the Miao tongue. Qinglong did not dare be remiss; he returned the salute and listened respectfully. But he did not understand the Miao language of the southern frontier, so he turned to look at Chieftain Tu Magu.

Tu Magu said in a low voice, "This is Shaman White Sheep, now the leader of the shamans at the altar. He greets you, and thanks you most sincerely for bringing the remains of the revered Great Shaman home."

Qinglong said solemnly, "The Great Shaman was a man of lofty virtue and great prestige, and he gave his all for our Hades Sect. What I have done is no more than my duty."

Tu Magu translated his words in a low voice for Shaman White Sheep, who nodded, stepped forward, came before Qinglong, and extended both hands.

Qinglong solemnly placed the blue-and-white urn in his hands.

Shaman White Sheep received it with the utmost care. At the very moment he took it, all the shamans around them suddenly broke their silence together and began to chant a strange scripture in the Miao tongue—a sound faint and ethereal, insubstantial, like the whispering of ghosts, like the chill of a cold moon.

The chanting grew gradually louder, spreading far into the distance and echoing among the mountains of Qili Gorge. From far below the mountain, from within the crowd, another wave of weeping arose.

Shaman White Sheep bowed to Qinglong and Tu Magu, then turned and carried the blue-and-white urn into the altar, the other shamans following at once. Qinglong watched it all, the distant sound of sobbing still echoing in his ears, and could not help but heave a long sigh.

Tu Magu's face was grief-stricken. He said in a low voice, "All the Miao, high and low, thank the honored envoy for bringing the Great Shaman home."