Chapter 201 — The Stranger

Xiao Wan ignored him and walked quickly to the Wild Wolf Daoist's side, looking ahead. Sure enough, at the end of the little path stood a house, and by the look of it not a small one either. But from a distance the courtyard was overgrown, the walls broken, not a trace of human habitation about it—clearly long abandoned.

Zhou Yixuan came up slowly, wagging his head and clicking his tongue, still seeming to praise himself. Xiao Wan shot him a look and scolded, "Hurry up, Grandfather."

With that, the three made their way toward the house. The night wind blew, and it was somewhat cold out on the wilderness; all three shrank their necks.

Drawing near, they saw it more clearly: it was truly a dilapidated house. The old perimeter wall had collapsed in places and crumbled in others; even the courtyard gate was nothing but a battered, crumbling doorframe, the door panels long gone. Within the courtyard stood but a single building, and from outside the roof seemed to be missing half of itself, the beams exposed. The house still had a door, left ajar. The whole structure appeared to have been built of planks, and after years of wind and rain, a musty smell drifted over on the breeze.

Xiao Wan frowned, but Zhou Yixuan was rather pleased. He walked slowly into the courtyard and looked about. Though weeds grew thick, there was nothing else strange to be seen. It seemed that although he still could not recall what this house had been, at least there should be no danger here.

He turned and called Xiao Wan and the Wild Wolf Daoist in. Xiao Wan came to Zhou Yixuan's side, hesitated a moment, then suddenly turned to the Wild Wolf Daoist: "Daoist, don't you feel that the layout of this house is something we've seen somewhere before?"

The Wild Wolf Daoist was startled and looked around, but after a long while could make nothing of it. He shook his head to say he did not know. Zhou Yixuan said impatiently: "What would you remember? This house is ancient—even your grandfather here can't recall it, so could you really have seen it before?"

Xiao Wan shrugged. "Fair enough. Never mind, let's go in and have a look."

Zhou Yixuan gave a chuckle and waved his hand: "Come then," and led the two of them up the stone steps before the house. With a creak, he pushed the door open.

Just as Zhou Yixuan stood in the doorway, craning his neck and peering into the dark interior, Xiao Wan suddenly felt something shift beneath her foot—she had stepped on something. Looking down, she saw a battered black plaque with what seemed to be writing on it. Curiosity roused, she crouched, pulled the black wooden plaque from the rubble, brushed away the debris, and looked closely. A moment later her body gave a sudden shudder; she staggered back several steps, her face pale, a flash of anger in her eyes, and cried out: "Grandfather, look—what is this place?"

Zhou Yixuan turned in astonishment. Clearly, though he had been peering about for some time, it was too dark inside, and he had not yet made anything out. "What is it, Xiao Wan?"

Xiao Wan pointed at his feet. "See for yourself."

Zhou Yixuan looked down, examined the wooden plaque closely, and suddenly froze. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, looked again, and then with a sudden cry of "Ah!" leaped down from the stone steps with an agility that belied his years.

On that black plaque, though the writing was somewhat blurred, two characters could still be made out: "Morgue."

Xiao Wan was both furious and frightened. "What kind of path are you leading us on—bringing us to a cursed place like this again! You did this once before, back in He Yin City!"

Zhou Yixuan's old face flushed red and pale by turns with sheer embarrassment. "Well—well, didn't I say so myself? I really did only remember there was a house here, but I honestly couldn't recall what it was for. So it was—so it was—"

Xiao Wan spat. "You and your endless talk! Enough, enough—let's go!"

Zhou Yixuan said hastily, "Yes, yes, let's go quickly. Every time we run into a place like this, we come to grief, eh!"

He was hurriedly turning around, still talking, when he suddenly came to an astonished halt. Xiao Wan and the Wild Wolf Daoist, following behind, nearly bumped into him. Xiao Wan poked her head out from behind his back and said angrily, "Grandfather, what are you doing now—"

Her voice, too, suddenly stopped.

At this moment—a dark, windy night, beneath the scant starlight, before a haunted house in the wilderness—Zhou Yixuan and the other two stood rooted in astonishment. For there, at the courtyard gate through which they had just come, stood a figure.

The figure was rather tall, and the cloth of his garments looked to be of decent quality, though he was exceedingly filthy from head to toe, his clothes torn in several places. Only with difficulty could one tell that they had originally been a dark green, and by the cut, they seemed to be the Daoist robes of one who had left the household life.

For some reason, the man's face seemed forever sunk in shadow; none of the three could make out his features. But this man had appeared behind them without a sound, almost like a specter, and a chill rose seething from their backs.

For a long while the man stood there like a stone, utterly motionless—which only deepened the terror of Zhou Yixuan and the others, for from this figure they could sense not a trace of living breath.

"Who—who are you, really?" Her voice trembled slightly, but at last it was Xiao Wan who slowly spoke and asked.

The man gave no response, let alone an answer. But after a moment, in the shadow veiling his face, two dim points of dark red suddenly kindled like will-o'-the-wisps, as though a pair of eerie eyes were gazing deeply at those before him.

"Ah!"

Suddenly Zhou Yixuan let out a faint cry, startling Xiao Wan and the Wild Wolf Daoist badly. They turned to look and saw that Zhou Yixuan was not looking at the man's face at all—rather, his gaze was fixed on the man's arm. "That—that's the mark of the Canglan Sect!"

The Hundred Thousand Wild Mountains, the Ancient Cave of Demon Suppression.

The darkness seemed endless, barring the way before Ming Li and Jin Pingyue. They had walked a long time, yet this road seemed never to end. Strangely, though, within this ancient cave there seemed to be only one path, with no forks—which at least spared them the worry of losing their way.

Since passing the black bat, the Ancient Cave of Demon Suppression had at every interval one or several formidable demons standing guard, some of which even made Jin Pingyue's expression change. But Ming Li at this moment displayed a strength the like of which he had never shown before, cutting through them like a blade through bamboo as he charged straight in. Almost no demon could withstand his attack—even that three-eyed spirit monkey, Xiao Hui, was terrifying in its ferocity. The fate of the black bat was likewise visited upon several other formidable monsters.

Jin Pingyue had not lifted a hand the whole way, but watching all along, her face had grown ever uglier. Ming Li's cultivation was so high, his progress so swift, far beyond her imagination. Even at the end, she thought to herself: within the demon cult, could anyone possibly match this man?

That great and ambitious Demon Lord? Or that deeply hidden Ghost Gentleman?

At this moment, Ming Li had just, before Jin Pingyue's very eyes, sent a ferocious two-headed demon leopard flying. The massive beast's body slammed heavily against the hard stone wall, and by the look of it, its end was near.