Chapter 160 — The Recluse
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 7 of 9
Now the dark night had just passed, and the sky was at the first light of dawn. High atop Jietian Peak, which stood piercing the clouds, a faint thin mist hung over the path leading to the Ancestral Master Hall and the forbidden ground of the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven, drifting gently with the mountain wind and clinging among the tips and branches of the pines and cypresses that lined the way.
At this hour not even a bird's call could be heard. The damp air had gathered into glistening dew, which ran slowly down the edges of the emerald leaves and dripped away in silence.
Of human figures there was not a trace!
Suddenly, a figure appeared on the path—it was Ming Li.
His face was blank; no fear or worry at standing in hostile territory showed upon it, nor any tension at drawing near the forbidden ground. He simply walked slowly forward, expressionless.
This road he had walked before—ten years ago...
Ten years later, the scene seemed unchanged, nothing altered: the pines and cypresses ever green, the grass and trees lush, and even the soil beneath his feet seemed as damp and soft as in that year.
Only he had changed.
The mountain wind threaded through the treetops and blew past the hem of his robe, stirring his hair. Little Grey, clinging to his shoulder, still seemed sleepy-eyed, its lids drooping, tail wound about Ming Li's arm. But Ming Li's eyes were strangely bright.
The path wound crookedly toward the deep mountains; the thin mist parted gently before him and quietly closed again behind. He walked on through that blur, ever forward, never once looking back.
And so he came along the way.
Until he reached the fork in the path. To the left, slightly, lay the still-deep path; the path to the right, behind the trees, faintly revealed the eaves of several halls.
That would be the Ancestral Master Hall, Ming Li said to himself. Ten years ago, right here, he had stood with Lin Jinghong against the powerful foes of the demon cult—and it was here, too, that Lu Xueling had faced him down.
And now he was a stranger to those years, to those old companions.
"Shhh, shhh... shhh, shhh..."
A faint sound came from deep in the woods, as though someone had risen early to sweep at something—soft and lingering. Ming Li stood in silence, listening, and quite lost himself; it was as if the years and time themselves had all along been echoing in faint ripples through that soft "shhh, shhh," quietly slipping away.
Suddenly he seemed to wake from a dream and jerked his head around. The silent air seemed in an instant to congeal; even the faint sweeping sound in the distance seemed to pause and fall mute.
Behind him, at some unknown moment, stood a figure in black—Mr. Ghost, his face veiled in black gauze.
Ming Li's pupils contracted slightly. "You've come too," he said in a low voice.
Mr. Ghost said quietly, "Yes."
"What brings you here?" said Ming Li.
Mr. Ghost shook his head. "I've come to lend you a hand."
Ming Li gave a cold laugh. "What did you say?"
Mr. Ghost said mildly, "There's no need for suspicion. There are things you do not know, and I came specially to tell you of them. Outside the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven there are no traps, but within there is a superior formation, guarding the spirit of the ancient sword, the Immortal-Slayer. Its source is no different from the Immortal-Slayer Sword Formation. Should an outsider rashly intrude and trigger the formation, it would be as though he had disturbed the Immortal-Slayer Sword Formation itself—the only outcome is death, with no chance of life. If you fancy yourself able to withstand that ancient sword, the Immortal-Slayer, then I have nothing more to say."
Ming Li's pupils contracted, and in the distant mist, the pale fog seemed to tremble ever so slightly.