Chapter 76 — The Fourth Chapter
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 8
Another silence, and Zhang Qingyue said in a low voice, "Yes."
This time, however, the crowd unexpectedly kept silent. The Blood-devouring Bead—that word reeking of blood and evil—should appear on the person of a Canglan Sect disciple!
The Perfected One Daoyan's face too gradually darkened. "Have you anything to say?"
Though he had long since known he must face this day, Zhang Qingyue's heart was still a blank white void; the dread of the unknown punishment that might fall on him set his body trembling faintly.
"I—I—I..."
Like a little boat despairing yet still struggling with all its might upon the vast sea, he spoke simple words in a daze, with no idea at all what he meant to say.
The Perfected One Daoyan's face was stern. "Where did this Blood-devouring Bead come from?"
His voice rose sharply at the end, the tone turning harsh; Zhang Qingyue, startled by the shout, felt a buzzing in his head and a sudden confusion, and at last began to speak—and once begun, the rest followed of itself: how in childhood he had been teased by the monkey Xiao Hui, how afterward he had chased it with Tian Lingsu to the hidden valley behind the mountain, how the Blood-devouring Bead and the strange black rod had suddenly clashed, and at last turned into this shape...
In the great hall, the crowd exchanged looks; even the Perfected One Daoyan, Pucheng and Pukong, and that old man Shangguan of the Fenxia Valley knitted their brows. That the Blood-devouring Bead and the Soul-Snatcher could be fused with blood as the medium was something even these masters of great cultivation were hearing for the first time—proof indeed that the world was vast and nothing too strange to exist.
There were not a few among them who harbored doubts, but Zhang Qingyue's gaze was somewhat dull and his manner desolate, and he did not look like a liar.
The Perfected One Daoyan pondered a moment, then looked at Zhang Qingyue and said, "Very well, I will for now believe this tale of accidental fusion. But before that, the Blood-devouring Bead was already on your person; you were a small child, how could you have come by such an evil thing? And furthermore, the Blood-devouring Bead always drains the essence and blood of living things, and at that time it had not yet fused with the Soul-Snatcher; how could you have remained unharmed?"
Zhang Qingyue was struck dumb. The true reason was, of course, that Puzhao had at the time used the Buddha's true dharma to temporarily restrain the Blood-devouring Bead, and that day Puzhao had also told him to throw it from some deserted and remote cliff—but Zhang Qingyue himself had kept the bead as a keepsake.
And to speak of Puzhao now would be to tell everything; yet this was the one thing Zhang Qingyue, deep in his heart, deeply did not wish to say.
That kindly old monk and he had in truth shared no more than a single night's fate; he had called him "Master," his one and only time, only when the man's lamp was guttering out. Yet all these years, by no means could he forget that man.
In an instant, the gazes and voices of those around him seemed to grow so distant, and the scene before his eyes seemed to return to many years ago, when he faced that old monk, a small boy stubborn and firm, saying to him, "I know. I won't tell even if I die!"
Not even if I die!
Not even if I die... not even if I die... not even if I die...
"Speak!"
A great shout shook the air all around; it was Tian Buhui, brows tightly knit, rising furiously to his feet and startling everyone. His face was stern beyond words, yet the worry in his eyes grew heavier and heavier. What Zhang Qingyue had now admitted were all grave violations of the Canglan Sect's and the righteous path's taboos; by ordinary reckoning, death itself might not be enough.