Chapter 84 — The Journey Afar
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 6
The old man waved a hand lightly, then sighed. "In the blink of an eye, another ten years. There is nothing more I can teach you, and you have kept me company in this Ancestral Hall for ten years now. Today, you may go back."
Lin Jinghong's body gave a start, and amazement showed on his face; the old man paid it no mind and merely said, "Do you know of what has happened within the Long Peak line?"
Recovering himself, Lin Jinghong nodded. "Yes. Some days ago, Senior Brother Qi Hao came here to visit me and told me a little."
The old man nodded. "I hear that today the outstanding disciples of the new generation in the Canglan Sect have all gathered at Jietian Peak; something may be afoot. Word came from the main line a short while ago as well—you should go too."
Lin Jinghong's mouth moved; he looked at the old man with a hint of reluctance in his eyes. The old man smiled, and a faint sadness seemed to cross his own face, only to vanish at once. He waved his hand. "A fine young man has no need of such posturing. Go!"
Lin Jinghong drew a deep breath and bowed to the ground. "Senior, the grace of ten years' instruction stands as high as the mountains; this disciple will engrave it on his heart. Hereafter I shall surely use what I have learned to uphold justice and vanquish demons, to repay my sect, and to prove myself worthy of a life's ambition!"
The old man nodded, smiling. "Good. Go, then."
Lin Jinghong bowed once more, cast a look at the scenery around him, and at last turned sharply about, straightened his back, and strode forward, leaving the Ancestral Hall behind.
The sunlight falling upon his retreating figure seemed almost dazzling.
The old man gazed after him, lost in a daze; at some unknown moment, another figure appeared behind him.
"He has gone," that figure said mildly.
The old man's mouth twitched; he rose slowly, turned, and looked at this person—the supreme sect master of the Canglan Sect.
"My thanks," he said suddenly.
Daoist Daoyan seemed slightly taken aback; he frowned. "What?"
The old man passed through his body and walked toward the inner hall of the Ancestral Hall, saying as he went, "My thanks that you were willing to let this young man keep me company for ten years."
Daoist Daoyan was silent a moment, then slowly walked into the Ancestral Hall as well. At the center of the great hall, before the altar that enshrined the spirit tablets of countless Qingyun ancestors, the lamps and incense flickered, now bright now dim, casting wavering light and shadow over men's faces.
The old man walked up to the altar, took a brand-new candle from the offering table before it, lit it from another candle, and replaced one beside it that was nearly burned out.
Daoist Daoyan watched his slow, practiced movements in silence, then said suddenly, "In those years I risked great peril and saved you behind the backs of all the masters and elders, and you never gave me so much as a word of thanks. Why is it that today, for a mere youth, you thank me instead?"
The old man did not speak. He stepped back and stood within the shadows, still holding the stub of the candle he had just replaced. He lifted his head and gazed upward; the spirit tablets of the Canglan Sect's past masters through the generations stood imposing before him, sacred and solemn, their momentum like a mountain's, as though they might easily crush so insignificant a man as he.
He was silent, saying nothing, only gazing so.
Daoist Daoyan, standing behind him, could not see the old man's eyes just then, but he did see the scalding wax drip from that candle stub, drop by drop, onto the withered palm, and slowly congeal there.
That palm, too, seemed to tremble faintly.
Deep in the shadows, far away, there seemed to come a faint, mournful sigh...