Chapter 31 — Suspicion
劍問蒼天 · Page 5 of 7
The more Tian Buhui heard, the angrier he grew. He had himself been puzzled by Zhang Qingyue's sudden, startling progress in cultivation, and harbored doubts about the dark iron staff; but here in the Hall of Jade Balance, when no one else was named, it was his own disciple who was picked at and faulted on every side. How could he not be furious? His face dark, he sprang to his feet with a sharp rustle and cried aloud, "Eldest Senior Brother, what is it you mean to do?"
Dao Yan Zhenren had not expected Tian Buhui to react so violently and was taken aback. All eyes turned that way; Zeng Shuchang, the Fenghui Peak leader who sat beside Tian Buhui and had always been on fairly good terms with him, tugged at his sleeve and said, "Buhui, the Chief Senior Brother said nothing against you. Sit down first."
Dao Yan Zhenren's face darkened slightly. "Junior Brother Tian, there is indeed something strange about this matter. As the head of the sect, I will of course handle it impartially. Set your mind at ease."
The anger still showed on Tian Buhui's face, but seeing Dao Yan Zhenren's expression and hearing Zeng Shuchang's two words of urging at his side, he sat down after all.
Dao Yan Zhenren said slowly, "Everyone, we have all examined this rod just now. Its surface is plain and without aura, yet within it lurks a hidden killing air. But what matters most is this: by our cultivation, none of us can command the thing, while that young disciple of at most the fourth level of the Yuqing Realm can wield it. What is the reason for this?"
Everyone, Tian Buhui included, fell silent. They were all cultivators of the first rank, and how could they not understand the principle? It was simply that no one was willing to say it aloud.
In the end it was Dao Yan Zhenren who spoke: "As I see it, this black rod is most likely an object of 'blood refinement.'"
Though all present had been prepared for it, the faces of the seated leaders still changed slightly. A blood-refined object is one into which a person's own essence-blood has been transmuted in the forging. Apart from the fact that this uncanny art demands a bizarre and treacherous method, the material for the magic treasure is more exacting still—not one in ten thousand would serve—and the forging itself is perilous to the extreme; one slip, and the treasure's malevolent blood-fiend aura turns back upon the maker, whose death is a thing no words can bear to describe. Of course, if it succeeds, the treasure is certain to possess matchless power, and it carries one further advantage: the treasure is joined to its master by blood, so that unless one shares the maker's bloodline, no other may use it. But precisely because blood is the medium, it all too often comes to bear a killing malevolence.
Legend holds that this art of blood refinement was handed down from the ancient demon gods, and from of old has passed generation to generation among the fiendish heretics of the Demonic Sect. Yet no famous blood-refined treasure has ever been heard of, most likely because the method is too perilous—even those of the Demonic Sect dare not lightly attempt it.
And now, of all places, such a treasure had appeared upon a young disciple of the Canglan Sect.
Dao Yan Zhenren looked toward Tian Buhui. His face ashen, Tian Buhui rose slowly and said, "Senior Brother, there may be reason in what you say, but I still must say this: Zhang Qingyue is barely sixteen—how could he know the art of blood refinement? Moreover, in the five years since he came up the mountain he has never once descended it, and when he arrived he had not a thing to his name. Where would he find a treasure material that is sought in vain throughout the world?"
Cangyan Daoren suddenly said coldly, "Perhaps he was planted among us by the Demonic Sect, scheming at length—that would be nothing remarkable!"