劍問蒼天 - 第161章 暗算 - 清風書屋

In the morning, a cool breeze drifted gently over Canglan Mountain, slowly turning the thin mist that cloaked the peak, so that it billowed like gossamer veils among the dense woods. At the three-way fork beyond the Ancestral Hall, Ming Li, Master Gui, and the old sweeper stood in a triangle, locked in a subtle, silent confrontation.

The wrinkles on the old man's face stirred. In a hoarse voice he said slowly, "You two are not of this mountain. Why have you come unbidden to this sacred ground of Qingyun? What business have you here?"

Ming Li said nothing, his eyes measuring the old man for a moment. Master Gui stood six feet from his side. With their cultivation, the two of them need fear no one under heaven—yet between them, it was plain that neither trusted the other in the least.

But at this moment, the eyes hidden behind Master Gui's black veil were fixed upon the old sweeper, sharp and bright, as though he sensed something strange.

The old man felt it. Trembling, he turned and looked at Master Gui. "You, honored sir—you have stared at this old man all this while. Have you something to say?"

Master Gui gave a sudden laugh. "You are nothing but an old keeper of the Canglan Mountain Ancestral Hall. Why meddle in matters not your own? This young man here—" he pointed at Ming Li, "—has long heard of the fame of the Illusory Moon Cave of Canglan Mountain and wishes to go in and see it for himself. Will you let him pass, old sir, or not?"

Standing off at a distance, Ming Li suddenly gave a cold snort. "Before we came up the mountain, we agreed on this: I would enter the Illusory Moon Cave and draw the attention of the Canglan Sect, while you slipped into the Ancestral Hall and destroyed every spirit tablet of every past Canglan master, to give the sect a proper humiliation. So why, now that we are here, do you still not go in?"

Master Gui choked on his words. He turned to look at Ming Li, whose face was grave, his expression solemn and earnest—so much so that it was hard indeed to believe no such plan had ever existed. Master Gui studied him for a long while, then seemed to give a bitter smile and shake his head slightly.

The old man looked at Ming Li, then at Master Gui, and his face slowly turned cold. The sharp light in his eyes kindled brighter and brighter. He said mildly, "So it seems that, one way or another, both of you mean ill toward Qingyun. This is sacred ground, and I have guarded it for many years. If you would wreak havoc here, you shall first have to step over this old man's body."

He said this quietly, calmly—and then, facing these two mysterious strangers, he slowly straightened his back.

In the dense woods behind the mountain in the early morning, the clear birdsong that had drifted from afar suddenly seemed to falter and die away. Only the mist upon the mountain still drifted, coiling about them.

The decades of a man's life seemed to flow quietly away in that silence as well, turning into the fine wrinkles at the corners of the eyes.

Master Gui spoke suddenly: "How is your left hand these days?"

Ming Li and the old man both started. Ming Li, naturally, could not fathom why Master Gui had blurted out so senseless a question—but the old man's body visibly shuddered. His eyes locked onto Master Gui, and he could not tear them away.

In the morning, in the thin mist, the old man stared for a long while. Then suddenly he let out a long breath. The astonishment on his face faded little by little. Slowly he said, "It is you?"

Master Gui smiled. "It is I."

He paused, his gaze raking the old man's face. Even his voice carried a note of feeling: "All these years—how have you aged so terribly? To look at you now, who would take you for the Wan Jian Gu who once shook the world as the foremost name of Canglan Sect?"