Chapter 162 — The Illusory Moon
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 5
From the sound of it, the cry still came from the foot of the mountain, yet the shriek rose into the clouds, and in an instant every face changed color. The shrill cry echoed and wound among the white clouds and perilous peaks for several turns before slowly sinking again—but just as it seemed about to die away, suddenly at the mountain's base ten thousand beasts roared as one. That countless roaring surged skyward, gathered into a single tide like mountains toppling and seas overturning, until heaven and earth themselves changed color, rolling toward them with a thunderous boom.
The cloud vapor burst apart with a roar, the mountain peaks broke off sheer, and a mass of black qi rose from the mountain's base, growing larger and denser, gathering in the sky opposite Jietian Peak until it blotted out the sunlight. Black clouds drifted slowly over this place that seemed a realm of immortals.
Who was it that cried out first, no one knew; the sharp-eyed among the crowd on the peak all looked over, and there in the depths of the black clouds, in the tearing wind, a youth stood with hands clasped behind his back, clad in conspicuous silken robes, his face expressionless, regarding the host upon the mountain with indifference.
In the eyes of heaven and earth, what manner of thing is a man?
He waved his hand lightly, yet his gaze seemed to pierce through the mountain range. At the mountain's base the beasts roared, the stench of blood rolled in waves, and at last the cries of the dying came drifting up...
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As though sensing something, Ming Li paused, frowned slightly, and turned to look toward the front slopes of Jietian Peak. There the sky was heavy with black clouds and the wind howled—not so great a distance away, yet the weather was utterly different from the rear mountain where he stood.
Warm sunlight spilled down from the sky, falling upon the lapel of his robe.
Ming Li slowly withdrew his gaze and glanced instinctively at his shoulder, but Little Grey was not there. This time, entering the Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven, he had deliberately not brought Little Grey along; the dangers of this place needed no explaining, and he had no confidence of success. In that battle just now with the mysterious old man, Master Ghost had lent a hand, yet Ming Li still felt an indefinable something toward the old man. The Canglan Sect's history stretched back thousands of years—truly a place where hidden dragons and crouching tigers dwelled.
Was there not a time when he, too, had been a part of this place?
He pressed his lips together indifferently and set off again. The path was as before, dense forest on either side, pines and cypresses ever green, grass and trees thick and tangled, and only this mountain path winding its crooked way forward, toward some unknown mystery.
From deep in the woods came the faint, clear song of birds, as though the catastrophe on the front mountain had not touched this place a single peak away. Peace hung everywhere, and even the air carried a cool, crisp freshness.
The faint tension in Ming Li's heart quickly subsided in such stillness, so that when he first raised his eyes and saw the four characters "Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven," he faced that world-renowned place without the slightest change in expression—as though he were looking upon the most ordinary of mountain caves.
And in truth, what lay before him did seem to be nothing more than an ordinary mountain cave.
Half again as tall as a man and some seven feet wide, the cave mouth opened on a gentle slope, flanked by green vines and brambles, a few tendrils even hanging down over the entrance and swaying gently in the mountain breeze. And there, beneath the green vines, on the stone above the cave mouth, four characters were carved:
Illusory Moon Grotto-Heaven.