劍問蒼天 - 第106章 古剎 - 清風書屋

Yet despite this, the sect had always kept an extremely low profile in former days. Though learned men of profound cultivation would appear from time to time, they had little influence on the affairs of the world. That was until eight hundred years ago, when the sect found a valley near that pitch-black tunnel in the southern borderlands, settled there, and thereafter called itself "Burning Cloud Valley." Over those eight hundred years, masters emerged in inconceivable succession, and its power grew day by day, until now it stood on equal footing with the Canglan Sect and the Brahma Sound Temple, becoming one of the three great orthodox sects of the world.

Correspondingly, the contemporary valley master of Burning Cloud Valley, Yun Yifeng, was likewise a towering pillar of the orthodox path, as renowned as Daoist Zhenren Daoyan of the Canglan Sect and Abbot Pucheng of the Brahma Sound Temple—save that this man had always kept a low profile, and by reputation alone he was not the equal of those two.

Because of its geography, Burning Cloud Valley had almost instinctively taken upon itself the guarding of that dark trail, known locally as the "Black Hole." From that time on, no more rumors were heard of barbarian monsters raiding the common folk. Thus, in the hearts of the local people, Burning Cloud Valley's reputation stood exceedingly high, and they revered its members as immortals.

All these records were preserved in the Underworld King Sect of the demon cult. Ming Li had read them during these past ten years, and now they slowly surfaced in his mind. It was by now the third day since he had set out south after questioning Zhou Yixuan about the reports of the murloc monsters. Pressing on with all haste along the way, he had at last reached the vicinity of the hundred thousand wild mountains.

The night was deep. A bright moon hung in the sky that night, the clouds were rather thick, and few stars were visible, yet the clear radiance of moonlight spilled down upon the world, illuminating the hill where he stood quite brightly.

Ming Li stood atop the hill, gazing southward, his brow slightly furrowed. The monkey, Xiao Hui, still clung to his shoulder, holding a wild fruit plucked from somewhere, gnawing at it with relish.

Along the journey, during the first two days, he had still found the marks left by his subordinate, the Monk Shasheng, but by today, all trace of the monk had vanished completely. Still, from the information left in the preceding days, it was clear that Shasheng, skilled as he was in the art of tracking, had determined that those mysterious murlocs were speeding southward, evidently bound for their old nest in the southern borderlands.

Could it be that Shasheng had already clashed with those mysterious, unfathomable murlocs?

Ming Li sighed faintly, a trace of worry flitting through his eyes. The southern barbarians were utterly different from the people of the Central Plains—this had been mentioned many times in the surviving records of the Underworld King Sect. The people there knew nothing of cultivating the Dao, yet seemed to possess all manner of bizarre and uncanny sorceries, beyond all imagining.

The Monk Shasheng was young in years and hot-tempered, yet among the new generation of disciples in the Underworld King Sect he was truly an outstanding figure. Serving under Ming Li in ordinary times, he was in truth a capable subordinate.

Now that he had mysteriously vanished, Ming Li felt a faint unease. At this moment, however, he gazed ahead and saw only the heavy darkness of night; to the south, black shadows loomed, as though some colossal thing were baring fangs and brandishing claws in the night—surely those legendary hundred thousand wild mountains. And somewhere beneath that range lay the legendary, mysterious Burning Cloud Valley.