Chapter 160 — The Recluse

Now the dark night had just passed, and the sky was at the first light of dawn. High atop Jietian Peak, which stood piercing the clouds, a faint thin mist hung over the path leading to the Ancestral Master Hall and the forbidden ground of the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven, drifting gently with the mountain wind and clinging among the tips and branches of the pines and cypresses that lined the way.

At this hour not even a bird's call could be heard. The damp air had gathered into glistening dew, which ran slowly down the edges of the emerald leaves and dripped away in silence.

Of human figures there was not a trace!

Suddenly, a figure appeared on the path—it was Ming Li.

His face was blank; no fear or worry at standing in hostile territory showed upon it, nor any tension at drawing near the forbidden ground. He simply walked slowly forward, expressionless.

This road he had walked before—ten years ago...

Ten years later, the scene seemed unchanged, nothing altered: the pines and cypresses ever green, the grass and trees lush, and even the soil beneath his feet seemed as damp and soft as in that year.

Only he had changed.

The mountain wind threaded through the treetops and blew past the hem of his robe, stirring his hair. Little Grey, clinging to his shoulder, still seemed sleepy-eyed, its lids drooping, tail wound about Ming Li's arm. But Ming Li's eyes were strangely bright.

The path wound crookedly toward the deep mountains; the thin mist parted gently before him and quietly closed again behind. He walked on through that blur, ever forward, never once looking back.

And so he came along the way.

Until he reached the fork in the path. To the left, slightly, lay the still-deep path; the path to the right, behind the trees, faintly revealed the eaves of several halls.

That would be the Ancestral Master Hall, Ming Li said to himself. Ten years ago, right here, he had stood with Lin Jinghong against the powerful foes of the demon cult—and it was here, too, that Lu Xueling had faced him down.

And now he was a stranger to those years, to those old companions.

"Shhh, shhh... shhh, shhh..."

A faint sound came from deep in the woods, as though someone had risen early to sweep at something—soft and lingering. Ming Li stood in silence, listening, and quite lost himself; it was as if the years and time themselves had all along been echoing in faint ripples through that soft "shhh, shhh," quietly slipping away.

Suddenly he seemed to wake from a dream and jerked his head around. The silent air seemed in an instant to congeal; even the faint sweeping sound in the distance seemed to pause and fall mute.

Behind him, at some unknown moment, stood a figure in black—Mr. Ghost, his face veiled in black gauze.

Ming Li's pupils contracted slightly. "You've come too," he said in a low voice.

Mr. Ghost said quietly, "Yes."

"What brings you here?" said Ming Li.

Mr. Ghost shook his head. "I've come to lend you a hand."

Ming Li gave a cold laugh. "What did you say?"

Mr. Ghost said mildly, "There's no need for suspicion. There are things you do not know, and I came specially to tell you of them. Outside the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven there are no traps, but within there is a superior formation, guarding the spirit of the ancient sword, the Immortal-Slayer. Its source is no different from the Immortal-Slayer Sword Formation. Should an outsider rashly intrude and trigger the formation, it would be as though he had disturbed the Immortal-Slayer Sword Formation itself—the only outcome is death, with no chance of life. If you fancy yourself able to withstand that ancient sword, the Immortal-Slayer, then I have nothing more to say."

Ming Li's pupils contracted, and in the distant mist, the pale fog seemed to tremble ever so slightly.

Mr. Ghost glanced at Ming Li. "Ordinarily it would be impossibly difficult for one of our demon cult to enter the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven—but you are the exception. In all the world, apart from the sect master and elders of the Canglan Sect, only you can get in."

Ming Li was silent for a moment, then said coldly, "What do you mean by that?"

Master Ghost said, "This formation can only be opened with the Shangqing realm of the Taiji Xuanqing Dao, passed down through the generations of the Canglan Sect, as its key. Only one who commands the formation's workings may enter. And once inside, illusions rain down thick as droplets—whether you can hold your resolve steady will be up to you alone."

Ming Li stared deeply at the man's black silhouette and was silent a long while. Then he said, "Why tell me so much?"

Master Ghost smiled faintly. His black figure seemed to drift rootless in the thin mist, almost like a specter. He said mildly, "That needn't concern you. I have said all I mean to say. Believe it or not, as you please."

********

On the front slope of Jietian Peak of Canglan Mountain, a Qingyun lad sweeping the ground pushed a pile of fallen leaves to one side and was just thinking of resting when he saw a figure come slowly up the stone steps from below, dressed in the robes of Qingyun. There were many disciples under the Canglan Sect, but this man had trodden this path countless times over the past ten years, and they had long since grown familiar with him.

"Senior Brother Lin." The boy's voice still carried a boyish lilt as he smiled at Lin Jinghong coming up the steps. "You've come early again. Off to the Ancestral Master's Hall on the back mountain, are you?"

Lin Jinghong smiled and nodded. "That's right. I didn't sleep well all night—kept feeling restless, as though something were weighing on me. So I came up early."

The other boys sweeping nearby drifted over and gathered around. One of them asked, "Senior Brother Lin, I hear the beast demons have already reached He Yin City at the foot of the mountain. Will they come up and attack?"

The other boys at once began chattering all at once. They were young, after all, and did not brood over things the way those of established name did; they were worried about the beast demons, true, but far more optimistic. Caught up in their mood, Lin Jinghong felt his own spirits lift. He smiled and said:

"Hmm. The beast demons are vicious. I imagine they will attack Qingyun."

"What?" The words set the pot boiling over; the boys broke into a clamor.

Smiling, Lin Jinghong soothed them and gestured for quiet. Then he said, "But aren't the senior masters here on Canglan Mountain now? Their powers are formidable and their cultivation profound—they will certainly not fear the beast demons. Besides," a hint of mystery crossed Lin Jinghong's face, "we still have the invincible Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation, don't we? Have you forgotten?"

The boys grew excited, laughing aloud. "Yes, yes! We have the Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation—we're sure to win!"

"That's right! Let the beast demons come up—we'll wipe them all out beneath the Ancestral Master's sword formation and avenge the common people of the realm!"

Listening to their eager voices, Lin Jinghong wore a smile and nodded again and again. At last he gave the boys a few parting words and continued on toward the back mountain. Once away from those carefree youths, the expression on his face turned grave at once. He walked on in silence; after a long while he suddenly sighed, shook his head, and murmured low to himself, "Best hurry to the back mountain and consult the senior masters."

With that he quickened his pace, heading toward the Ancestral Master's Hall on the back mountain of Jietian Peak. And as he walked with his head bowed, the hazy mist on the back mountain drifted in layer upon layer, softly swirling, like a dream from last night that had never woken.

********

At the three-way junction, Ming Li and Master Ghost regarded each other for a long time, strange lights flickering in Ming Li's eyes. Master Ghost did not flinch but met his gaze directly.