Chapter 144 — An Encounter
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 8
Yet the three great factions of the Demonic Cult—the Nether King Sect, the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect, and the Soul-Bewitching Sect—which in ordinary times were so arrogant and aggressive, suddenly fell silent, as though watching one another, in no haste to make any move. And so, beneath this gathering storm, the Central Plains fell for a time into an eerie calm.
That strange calm was broken at last on the day before the summer solstice, when the monstrous beasts and alien tribes that had laid the Southern Borderlands to waste at last came surging into the Central Plains.
At first, however, the common people suffered few casualties, for a month earlier the folk near the southern regions had already fled clean away. Only these beasts seemed to grow more numerous by the day, and to spread ever more swiftly, and it looked as though they would soon press into the heartland of the Central Plains—and then would come the hour when all living souls under heaven fell into misery.
It was hard to say whether the tidings were astonishing fact or rumors of doubtful truth, but heart-shaking news did indeed come one after another: yesterday a village was said to have been bathed in blood, today a whole great city was rumored to have been reduced to ruins. Every day spent in terror and dread was, for anyone, so hard and so frightening to endure.
Yet to one whose heart had died within him, it seemed that even if every soul in the world perished, it was no concern of his. Ming Li had been with Zhou Yixuan, Xiao Wan, and the Wild Dog and his lot for more than a month now, and even he could not say why he kept following them—perhaps he had long since felt there was nowhere else to go, and so let things take their course.
Among the group, Zhou Yixuan was the most opposed to having Ming Li tag along. Here was an extra fellow eating their food for nothing—and one who would not even haul luggage or do odd chores the way the Wild Wolf Daoist did, but spent his days either drinking or sleeping, and on top of that often needed someone to look after him.
And as for eating for nothing, Ming Li did no more than drink a little wine; the real thorn in Zhou Yixuan's side now was the three-eyed monkey that followed at Ming Li's heels. Little Grey's appetite was astonishing, and his capacity for drink far exceeded that of Ming Li, who got drunk at a single cup—a whole sack of strong wine went down the monkey's throat, and his face did not so much as redden. Had it not been that Xiao Wan insisted, no matter what, on keeping this man and his monkey, Zhou Yixuan would long since have run as far as he could.
As for the Wild Wolf Daoist, ever since that night when murder had suddenly risen in his heart and he had plotted to do away with Ming Li, only to be discovered and stopped by Little Grey and in the end spared by Ming Li instead, he had grown even more taciturn, often going days without speaking a word.
Yet in these past few days, whether it was the nagging, complaining Zhou Yixuan, or Xiao Wan, or even the silent Wild Wolf Daoist, they had all begun to notice that Ming Li seemed changed. Though it was hard for them to put it into words, Ming Li was indeed gradually coming to his senses; the clearest sign was that his drunken spells grew fewer, and sometimes he would go a whole night without drinking. Yet his behavior remained just as strange—Ming Li would often sit with Little Grey, facing north, staring blankly as though lost in some private trouble.
The news of the southern calamity, carried north by the refugees streaming toward the north, gradually spread as well, and Zhou Yixuan and the others came to know of it.
Among them, Zhou Yixuan started when he first heard the news, then fell into long thought, shook his head, and thereafter sighed all day long, saying there was nowhere left to flee.