劍問蒼天 - 第233章 悲哀 - 清風書屋

Unlike the undercurrents stirring among the great clans of the Central Plains, in the southern borderlands a thousand li away, the people of the various tribes were silently rebuilding their homes after the catastrophe of the beast demons. Though this land had suffered the most grievous losses of all, in a world so vast, it seemed no one remembered this place; the barren wastes of the south, after all, had never entered the sight of the prosperous folk of the Central Plains.

In the Seven-Li Grotto where the Miao people dwelt, the scars left by the beast demons were still visible everywhere, yet upon the ruins many new houses had already been raised. On the mountainside behind the Seven-Li Grotto, at the entrance to that mysterious altar, sacrifices still came and went in no small numbers; in this hour when a hundred undertakings awaited revival, the blessing of the ancestors was of singular importance to the Miao.

The Miao rose at dawn and rested at dusk, and the days passed one after another in this fashion. Watching the sun sink in the west and nightfall descend, the many Miao folk returned to their homes one by one, easing their weary bodies; after the evening meal, beneath the starlight scattered by the myriad stars of the night sky, they gradually sank into slumber.

Only in the deep hush of night did a white figure suddenly appear within the Seven-Li Grotto, like a faint ghostlight in the darkness. With a few silent bounds through the quiet valley, it had already crept close to the foot of the mountain where the rear-peak altar stood.

At the entrance leading up the mountain, despite the late hour, two Miao soldiers still stood guard. But the night wind blew by in a sudden gust, and they felt a white light swift as lightning flash past their eyes, a faint sweet fragrance like a night flower softly opening; involuntarily, both fell into a daze.

Moments later they regained their senses. The lapse had been so brief that each took it for no more than a momentary doze born of fatigue. Cursing themselves inwardly a few times, the two Miao men rallied their spirits and once more kept careful watch over the sacred ground of their people.

But behind them, a white, slender figure like a specter slowly seeped out of the darkness and appeared upon the platform at the altar's entrance. Robed all in white, endlessly lovely, a woman for whom the starlight of the whole sky seemed to yearn—who else could it be but Xiao Bai?

She glanced around, then looked into the pitch-black cave. Though all within was still impenetrable darkness, Xiao Bai's gaze drifted slowly, a faint smile touching the corners of her lips. Then, as if touched by some feeling, she silently shook her head and gave a soft sigh.

The defenses here were far weaker than she had expected, nothing like the grandeur of the day she and Ming Li had come to seek audience with the Great Shaman. Never mind those sturdy soldiers at the foot of the mountain—this altar ought to have held many shamans versed in sorcery, and should never have been left as unguarded as this. It seemed the calamity of the beast demons had indeed cost the Miao dearly.

And in truth, it was not only the Miao before her. Looking across the world, for the sake of that one Beast Sovereign alone, who could say how many innocent families had been broken and scattered, how many souls left homeless? Right and wrong in such matters were truly hard to speak of.

Xiao Bai shook her head slightly and thought no more. Her body rose, transforming into a faint white glimmer, and she flew straight into the cave. Most of the cave was as it had been before, the paths unchanged; at intervals along the stone walls torches still burned as in former days. Yet through her senses Xiao Bai found that the caves near and far held very few people, and the few there were breathed slow and steady—asleep, she judged.