Chapter 3 — The Enigma
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 5
The old monk rose shakily to his feet. A warmth surged in his throat, and he could not hold back a mouthful of hot blood that sprayed out, dyeing the monk's robe before him red. He felt stars flashing before his eyes, his whole body wracked with pain, and that numb, itching sensation drawing ever closer to his heart.
He forced himself to calm his mind. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Lin Jinghong lying on the ground, still unconscious—and saw, crawling slowly from the boy's collar, a colored centipede, large as a palm. Strangest of all, its tail was split into seven forks, so that it seemed to have seven tails, each of a different hue, every one brilliant and vivid—yet for all their beauty there was something ghastly in them.
"The Seven-Tailed Centipede!" The old monk's words sounded like a groan.
The blackness on his face grew heavier, blood trickling ceaselessly from the corner of his mouth; he seemed scarcely able to hold on, yet he still forced himself to remain upright, unwilling to fall. He looked at the mass of black vapor in midair and said, "You set this rarest venom of the world upon that child, and deliberately concealed your strength, waiting for the moment to strike me down with a single blow. It is me you have come for, is it not?"
The man in the black vapor gave a cold, sinister laugh. "Correct. I have come expressly for you, Puzhao, you bald donkey. Were it otherwise, with your Buddhist cultivation from the Brahma Sound Temple, you would not be so easy to deal with. Enough—now hand over the 'Blood-Devouring Pearl' at once, and I will give you the antidote to the Seven-Tailed Centipede and spare your life!"
Puzhao gave a bitter laugh. "To think my name contains the character 'zhi'—wisdom—and yet I never guessed that one who cultivates such a cursed thing as the Blood-Poison Banner would not covet the 'Blood-Devouring Pearl.'" His face turned stern, and he said decisively, "To hand over to you the most vicious thing in this world—that is a vain hope."
The man in the black vapor was enraged. "Then go and meet your Buddha!" A red gleam flashed; the Blood-Poison Banner fluttered in the wind, ghosts wailed, and the giant ghostly thing appeared once more. It circled briefly in the air, then charged at Puzhao again.
Puzhao gave a great shout, and his robes billowed though there was no wind; his originally slight frame seemed to swell greatly. Where his left hand gripped with force, a crisp crack was heard—the string of emerald prayer beads had been crushed in his grasp. A dozen or more crystal-clear beads did not fall, but instead spun whirling without cease, each emitting a blue-green light, floating before Puzhao—save one deep purple bead, which dropped straight down.
Puzhao turned his palm and snatched the purple bead into his hand. Both hands then formed the left and right Water Vase Seals, his eyes wide open, golden light faintly veiling his whole body, and he chanted, word by word: "Om—ma—ni—pad—me—hum!"
"The Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra." The tone of the man in the black vapor at once grew more grave.
As Puzhao's "hum" sounded, in an instant all the emerald prayer beads blazed with light together. At that same moment the ghostly thing the evildoer had summoned was already upon him, the reek of blood rushing at his face. But the moment it touched the blue-green radiance it dissolved into nothing, unable to advance, and so the two hung locked in midair.
Even so, Puzhao's body swayed again. The Seven-Tailed Centipede was the deadliest venom in the world; for all his centuries of cultivation, he still could not withstand it. Yet upon his face, dark with the black vapor, there appeared a faint smile, bearing a touch of something stern and unyielding.
"Ha!"