Chapter 220 — Convergence

A moment later, a strand separated from the black vapor shrouding the man's body and faintly took the shape of a black arrow in midair. With a sound it shot forth, hurtling at one of the broken, battered pillars inside the little temple.

Ming Li's hand clenched involuntarily, his fist tightening before he caught himself. He held back still, steadied his mind, and watched covertly.

The black arrow of qi looked formidable indeed. In the blink of an eye it struck the damaged stone pillar with a muffled boom, and the already crumbling pillar was shattered to bits on the spot, stone fragments flying everywhere. But stranger still: at the very instant the pillar burst, four or five faint glimmers rose suddenly from where it had stood, bleak with yin energy—they were, unmistakably, several ghosts.

For a time the yin energy around the little temple surged, ghostly wails rising one after another. Ming Li, lurking nearby, understood at once, and anger showed on his face. In the tragedy of Liumiao Village all those years ago, more than two hundred innocent people had died wrongful deaths; with so many slain unjustly, the depth of their resentment was naturally no small matter. But this place, after all, lay right beneath the Canglan Sect's very nose, and so in those years the Canglan Sect had sent disciples down the mountain to perform rites here and dissolve the malevolent aura, guiding many lingering spirits who would not leave to enter the cycle of reincarnation—a kind of compensation for Liumiao Village.

Yet for some unknown reason, to this day there were still so many ghosts clinging to this ruined temple in Liumiao Village. No wonder the area had lain deserted for years, overrun with wild grass, while around this thatched temple alone not a blade of grass grew.

Ming Li was still turning this over in his mind when, the next moment, he saw that the strange man in black seemed not to regard these ghosts—clawing and fanging, dreaded by ordinary folk who would flee at the sight—as worth a thought at all. On the contrary, he simply reached out a hand and beckoned once. The ghosts seemed to know his power, and struggled desperately to flee, but as though caught by an invisible force they were all dragged to the mysterious figure's side; a moment later, amid gust after gust of despairing ghostly weeping, the ghosts slowly melted into the black vapor that wrapped the man's body.

Somehow, seeing this, Ming Li felt a sudden scorching in his heart, as though it had been seared by fire; the blood in his whole body seemed to seethe faintly. A nameless fury surged up in an instant.

This place was his homeland!

That thatched temple had been his childhood playground!

The next moment, he had already charged out.

The black figure sensed the disturbance behind him at once and spun around sharply. When he made out the man and monkey before him, this mysterious personage seemed to start in surprise as well.

Then, from the layer of rolling black vapor, his strange laughter seemed to sound—low and hoarse, wholly unintelligible.

Ming Li said coldly, "Who are you, and why have you come here? To gather yin spirits is to offend heaven and reason—are you not afraid of retribution?"

The black vapor around the man surged, and suddenly his whole body convulsed and he shot up into midair.

Ming Li was startled. He knew that however strange this man was, his cultivation was truly no small matter, and he swiftly gathered his focus to guard against him. To his surprise, the man's move proved a feint; hovering in midair, he twisted about and fled in a different direction through the air.

Ming Li gave a cold snort and, without a moment's hesitation, rose into the air as well and gave chase in hot pursuit. Watching from midair the direction of the man's flight, he saw it seemed to head for the wilderness south of He Yin City, not far off. Ming Li pursued relentlessly all the way; he meant to see just who this uncanny fellow was.

As for what awaited him ahead, he had not thought of it.

But who would ever think of it in earnest? And even if you had thought of it earnestly, would it have done any good?

Perhaps this is like the things of the future: no matter what, good or ill, in the end we must face them all.