劍問蒼天 - 第157章 秘密 - 清風書屋

The Wild Wolf Daoist looked at her and said nothing. Zhou Yixuan said impatiently, "How can you be so muddled? Ming Li's cultivation is very high—what does he have to fear? Besides, it's dog eat dog—no, wait, one's called Ming Li and the other's Master Ghost, so I suppose it's ghost eat ghost. Ghost eat ghost, what's that got to do with us? Go, go, hurry!"

With that he seized Xiaowan's hand and pulled her along. Xiaowan hesitated a moment, but in the end let Zhou Yixuan drag her away. The Wild Wolf Daoist glanced back once at the house of flickering lights, where the wild beams flashed and a fierce wind seemed faintly to howl. His eyes held a complicated expression, and he was silent; after a moment he turned and hurried after Zhou Yixuan and the others.

********

Within the gloomy house, a little over half a cup of tea's time had now passed. The room, already cluttered to begin with, was now a scene of utter ruin: broken stone and rubble lay everywhere, and even the floor, dilapidated before, now looked as though an earthquake had passed and then an ox had dragged a plow across it—earth heaved into ridges and hollows, stones jutting up, scarcely a spot left to stand.

Ming Li and Master Ghost both hovered in midair now, having paused for the moment, gazing at each other; both seemed to be breathing slightly hard. Only Little Grey on Ming Li's shoulder seemed a little impatient—it yawned idly, then stretched.

Master Ghost suddenly said, "I never imagined your cultivation would advance so fast. In but ten years' time you have actually fused the true arts of Daoism, Buddhism, and the Demonic Path into one—truly no small thing."

Ming Li looked at this mysterious black-robed man and said coldly, "Nor did I imagine that you were not of the demonic sect at all, but a man of the southern frontier's shamanic ghost-path."

At this point a dark red light suddenly kindled in his eyes. Staring at Master Ghost, his voice turning icy, he said, "Since you know the ghost-path so well, then the art of recalling Bi Li's soul—you..."

Before he could finish, Master Ghost cut in: "You are wrong. Though I know a little of the ghost-path's strange arts, the method of recalling a soul is a secret art of the southern frontier's Black Shaman clan. I do not know it—otherwise, given my friendship with the Nether King, I would long ago have brought Miss Bi Li back."

Ming Li watched him coldly, the red light flickering uncertainly in his eyes, as though weighing whether Master Ghost's words could be believed. Master Ghost, for his part, was silent a moment, then suddenly said, "Since you are determined to protect those three tonight, then for the sake of our both belonging to the Nether King Sect, I will let them off this once. There is little point in you and me fighting here—better that we stop."

Ming Li sneered inwardly. He was long past the ignorant youth he had once been; in that harrowing exchange just now, had his cultivation been the least bit lacking, or had he been careless but once, he would have died a thousand times over—and at such a moment no one would have spoken of their both belonging to the Nether King Sect. But Master Ghost was truly a mysterious and unfathomable figure. Though Ming Li did not fear him, that exchange had shown him that this man's arts were uncanny and that he was in truth an exceedingly difficult foe; unwilling to press him rashly, he nodded and said mildly, "So be it."

Master Ghost drifted slowly down. The house was now a shambles; most of the original coffins lay split and shattered, and only that coffin set upon the yin ground remained whole. Master Ghost alighted upon it and was silent a moment, then said, "What do you mean to do, coming to Mount Canglan this time?"

Ming Li said coldly, "And what business is yours?"