Chapter 11 — The Secluded Valley
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 6 of 6
Zhang Qingyue frowned. In the end he could not bear it; he rose and walked back in. A few steps was all it took for the nausea to return, and at the same moment the warmth rose again in his chest and held the discomfort at bay.
Slowly he came to the monkey's side, his head streaming with sweat. The grey monkey, seeing him near, did not stir; it seemed crushed breathless. Zhang Qingyue drew a deep breath, bent, gathered the monkey into his arms, turned, and walked out. The grey monkey was very docile now, lying quietly against his chest.
With much effort he got out again, to where Tian Lingsu still lay unconscious, and the nausea left him as he came. Zhang Qingyue put the grey monkey down and dropped to the ground, gulping air; the monkey too breathed easier and lay flat, its eyes rolling busily about, yet it did not run — it only watched Zhang Qingyue.
Zhang Qingyue undid his collar and took out the bead on its red cord to examine closely. The deep purple surface had faded to a pale violet, and the blue-green qi within seemed to have been provoked by something: it whirled ten times as fast as before, spinning without cease, dashing itself against the bead's shell on every side. As always, each time the qi struck, a swastika sigil of the Buddhist true word emerged to block it. And that warmth which had just now saved Zhang Qingyue had come forth from those very sigils.
Yet Zhang Qingyue could see plainly that, compared with the first time he had set eyes on it three years ago, those Buddhist swastika sigils were much diminished, both in size and in brightness.