Chapter 155 — The Rite of Remembrance

Though it was deep in the night, in the secluded ancestral shrine in the rear mountains of Jietian Peak, the eternal lamp still burned, like a faint ghost-fire in the darkness. The old man who kept watch over the shrine had not yet slept. He stood before the altar table that enshrined the spirit tablets of the successive generations of Canglan Sect masters, gazing at those names within the dark shadows.

In the distance came the low chirping of insects.

In the silence, it was almost as if there were also the sound of heartbeats!

The night wind blew past, and the flame of the eternal lamp wavered, trembling like a gasp. The old man slowly turned, walked to the lamp, and gently shielded it with his hand from the direction of the wind. Soon the flame grew calm and began to burn steadily once more. The old man gazed deeply at that point of light; reflected in his eyes, it seemed to be burning something as well.

Deep in the night, footsteps suddenly sounded. The old man's brow furrowed. He listened closely for a moment, then slowly turned. His aged voice came slowly: "I did not think you would still come at such a late hour."

The figure of Daoist Master Daoyan slowly emerged from the darkness and stepped into the ancestral shrine.

Beneath the dim yellow lamplight, the eyes of the two old men met in midair, and for a moment both were struck still. In that inadvertent instant, each suddenly realized that the other had grown so old—and then, in turn, that was he not the same himself?

Daoist Master Daoyan said nothing, gazing at the old man for a long while. Then he walked slowly to the altar table and stood beneath the spirit tablets of the successive Canglan Sect masters, slowly straightening his frame. The old man came to stand behind him, likewise without a word.

In the darkness, an intangible majesty seemed to seep slowly from those shadows, like deep traces that even the years could not erase. Daoist Master Daoyan's face was expressionless. He took three slender sticks of incense from the altar table, carried them to the candle flame to light them, and held them solemnly in both hands. With the utmost reverence he bowed three times toward the ancestral tablets, then stepped forward and planted the incense in the censer.

Faint wisps of smoke curled up from the censer and dispersed into the air, rendering the spirit tablets ahead still more indistinct—dimly, they seemed like pairs of eyes, gazing coldly at these two old men and at this world.

"Burning incense at midnight—is there some trouble?" the old man asked mildly, his tone flat, as though speaking of a matter that did not concern him.

Daoist Master Daoyan did not turn to look at him. His eyes remained fixed on those august tablets behind the thin smoke. After a moment, he said slowly, "Tell me—after you and I have passed from this world, when later generations come to pay us homage, what will be in their hearts?"

The old man gave a cold snort. "For you, reverence, naturally. As for me—would anyone even remember?"

Daoist Master Daoyan paid no heed to the old man's faintly sardonic words, only smiling faintly. Then he said quietly, "A great calamity is upon us. The world over, the people are plunged into misery, ravaged by the beast-demons. The thought that a battle between Canglan Mountain and the beast-demons is unavoidable, and that it bears upon the fate of all living things—these burdens pressing on my shoulders have kept me from sleeping well for many days."

The old man's brow furrowed. "Surely you have not come to pour out your troubles to me. That is not your nature."

Daoist Master Daoyan looked at the old man a moment, then suddenly laughed. He sighed. "After several hundred years of friendship between us, it seems you alone still know my character best."

The old man shook his head. "I know your character? If that were so, I would not be here keeping watch over this shrine. Enough—spare me the idle talk. What is it you really wish to say?"

Daoist Master Daoyan seemed especially forbearing toward the old man; his several blunt retorts he took without offense. Only his face grew somewhat stern as he said slowly, "I have made up my mind. This battle is too great a matter. For the sake of all living things under heaven, I mean to withdraw the Heaven's Mechanism Seals of the seven peaks of Canglan Mountain."

The old man's expression suddenly froze. His brows knitted deeply, and he looked hard at Daoyan, who met his gaze without flinching. After a long while, the old man said slowly, "Have you thought this matter through?"

Daoyan nodded slowly. "However, when I secretly informed the heads of the six branches today, Tian Buhui sent word to me through another, urging me to beware the malevolence turning back upon its caster."

The old man gave a cold laugh and turned to face the ancestral tablets. After a long pause he said, "It is not as though you have never entered the 'Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven.' What lies within, you know yourself." He paused, and his voice suddenly softened a little, as though bearing a trace of helplessness. "Take care of yourself."

Daoist Master Daoyan said nothing. After a moment he too raised his head and looked at that deep, dark shadow, that silent majesty, which seemed also to be sneering without a sound in the darkness.

********

Seven days later, rumors of beast-demon sightings grew ever more numerous in the lands around Canglan Mountain. Within a hundred li in every direction, centered on He Yin City at the foot of the mountain, refugees could be seen everywhere. It was as though, in the world of that moment, only that towering, majestic Canglan Mountain could offer people a little comfort and a sense of safety.

And amid the clamor of those countless multitudes, He Yin City was the most chaotic place of all. The streets and alleys were packed with people; the city's inns and taverns had long since filled to capacity, and the greater number of refugees who had fled there could only sleep in the open. Under such conditions, even the food supply in He Yin City had grown very strained. Fortunately, since the city stood beside the river, there was at least no worry over water.

In such chaos it would have been hard to guarantee that no looting or murder would occur—and indeed, rumors of such things did surface from time to time. Yesterday so-and-so had vanished; today someone else was said to have been found dead in the street. But He Yin City stood at the foot of Canglan Mountain after all, and the Canglan Sect had long since made preparations, dispatching a considerable number of disciples into the city to keep order. So on the whole, amid this great calamity, no dire misfortune had yet befallen the countless refugees.

Yet as the terrifying rumors of the beast-demons grew worse by the day, no one could predict what tomorrow might bring. Under such circumstances, an ever-deepening unease spread through He Yin City, and the people were anxious and fearful.

It was in this state of affairs that the wandering fortune-teller Zhou Yixuan arrived in the city with his granddaughter Xiao Wan and the Wild Wolf Daoist. Standing on what had once been a broad street, they now saw only a dense sea of bobbing heads; the street was so crowded it was difficult even to walk. The Wild Wolf Daoist was one thing, but Zhou Yixuan and Xiao Wan were struck dumb.

Relying on the Wild Wolf Daoist's sturdy build and fierce countenance to clear the way ahead, the weak were shoved aside, and the strong, turning to look at the Wild Wolf Daoist, for the most part dared not protest beneath that visage. Zhou Yixuan and Xiao Wan followed close behind, forcing their way forward, drenched in sweat, and only with great effort did they cross that street and turn into a small lane at the western end of He Yin City.