Chapter 39 — The Abyss
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 6
Legend has it that in the beginning this world was darkness; then, forty-eight thousand years later, came the giant god Pangu, who split heaven from earth and gave form to the mountains and rivers; and after another forty-eight thousand years, Nüwa fashioned humankind.
Legend has it that the first light between heaven and earth was born in the deepest darkness of all.
Zhang Qingyue felt only that his whole body was terribly cold, a chill that pierced to the marrow — a cold that seemed to reach beyond the flesh, until even his heart grew cold, the sensation of one about to die.
Yet strangely, he felt no fear, not the slightest terror — only a weariness such as he had never known, as though he no longer had the strength even to open his eyes. And strangest of all, in this state of utter exhaustion and weakness, his mind was slowly growing clear.
Something, it seemed, was wrapped around him — very gently, very carefully, yet cold as ice — slowly drawing the warmth out of his body, and with it a strange, sweet comfort that made a man want nothing more than to sink into a pleasant sleep.
Had it not been for the familiar, icy breath rising in his right hand like a guard protecting its master; had it not been that he suddenly felt, in his left hand, that he was still holding a cool, soft hand —
In his drowsiness he struggled, inch by inch, to open his eyes!
It was a shaft of light in the eternal darkness!
In the boundless, endless dark, a single point of radiance quietly kindled before Zhang Qingyue alone — a faint, ghostly white glow, drifting unsteadily through the darkness, twining about him like the gentlest of women taking hold of her beloved, entwined with him so tenderly.
It was like a wisp of light smoke, vague and ethereal, and there in midair, beside Zhang Qingyue, it gradually shaped itself into a beautiful, sorrowful face, which bent toward the youth's lips and kissed them!
On those lips was a faint fragrance, a faint stirring of the senses — and, beyond that, nothing but ice!
An ice that sank into the heart!
The Black Iron Rod leaped up with a sudden flare, its dark blue-green radiance barring the way before Zhang Qingyue, and the beautiful face wrought from that smoke-like white light seemed to fear it; it had no choice but to retreat. Zhang Qingyue's body convulsed; he rolled over and sprang up, and then, understanding, cried out in alarm: "Yin spirits!"
Since ancient times it has been said that men are born, grow old, and die, and that only the soul is not extinguished; when a life's span is done, the soul leaves the body and goes to be reborn, life after life, in an endless round of transmigration. Yet in this world there are also resentful spirits, which — because of the three poisons of greed, anger, and delusion, and because of dread, loathing, and fear — cling to the mortal world, turn back toward their former lives, and refuse to be reborn. These are called "yin spirits."
Naturally, yin spirits are creatures of the yin soul, and so they delight in dwelling in dark, damp places; in this Abyss of the Dead, dark and wet, it was hardly surprising that such ghouls should be found. But never in his life had Zhang Qingyue seen such a thing. As a child in Liumiao Village he had heard the grown-ups say that there were ghosts in this world; later, on Dazhu Peak, he had heard his senior brothers call them yin spirits, and a certain dread had taken root in his heart. Now, meeting one face to face, he truly felt the chill run from his head to his feet.
His cry carried far away into the darkness, and in all that surrounding pitch-blackness his voice sounded thin and drifting; after a long while, a faint, faint echo came drifting back. And with that cry of his, as though something had been startled awake, the darkness around him soundlessly brightened once more.