Chapter 73 — One

A hundred years ago, the demon cult and the orthodox sects had fought a great battle at the Canglan Mountains, killing until heaven and earth grew dim, but in the end the demon cult had still been driven off in defeat. After that the demon cult was gravely weakened; of the four great sects, three had changed masters, and it was at that time that the Nether King had succeeded to the position of sect master of the Nether King's sect.

But among all the sects, only the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect's old monster, the Poison God, had survived; only in these years he too had reversed his former swaggering, showy ways—even within the demon cult, the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect had unexpectedly kept a low profile, and ordinary followers rarely so much as laid eyes on the old monster.

At the thought, Qinglong could not help frowning slightly. The title of Poison God had resounded throughout the demon cult as early as several hundred years ago; back when he himself had still followed the previous Nether King in carving out their domain, this Poison God had already been a formidable lieutenant of the Ten Thousand Poisons Sect, and afterward, upon taking the sect master's seat, had fought fiercely with the Nether King's sect in the demon cult's internal struggles, secretly piling up grudges beyond counting.

He had never imagined that times would change, and that he would end up working with this old monster.

Qinglong had not seen the Poison God in nearly a hundred years, and was rather curious at heart—what on earth had the old monster become after all these years? By age, the old monster must be close to five hundred.

At this thought his heart stirred, and he looked at the Nether King walking half a pace ahead of him: a faint smile on his face, his manner seemingly quite relaxed, yet by no means could one guess what was in his mind.

They walked on, through the courtyard and into the inner hall; all around was silent, not a soul in sight. The dwelling of this man of high position and great power had an unexpected chill and emptiness about it.

Soon the two saw ahead, at the door of what looked like an ordinary single-story house, eight men standing dressed alike in yellow-brown; their guide led them toward that house. It seemed the Poison God must be inside.

As they drew near, the eight men bowed together to the Nether King—clearly the Nether King, as master of one of the four great factions of the demon cult, held extremely high station within it. But the Nether King showed no trace of haughtiness; he nodded slightly to them all, smiled amiably, and went in with Qinglong.

The room had windows on both the east and west sides, and with the light pouring in it was very bright—nothing at all like the worldly tales of demon cult folk forever lurking in darkness.

As for the furnishings, they were simplicity itself. In the midst of the great room stood only a table and several chairs, and beside the table a reclining chair, upon which lay an old man with hair white as snow, his eyes closed; beside him sat a young man of clean complexion, barely past twenty, arranging the tea things on the table, the fragrance of tea drifting faintly over from time to time.

By any measure it looked like a peaceful picture of grandsire and grandchild at rest—where was there the slightest trace of evil?

The Nether King smiled slightly and walked over; the old man, hearing footsteps, opened his eyes, glanced toward the Nether King, and at once his face broke into a smile. "You've come?" he said with a smile.

The Nether King laughed. "Elder, since we parted at the Holy Hall that year, it has been long since we met. How is your health?"

This old man was, of course, the Poison God, whose infamy was known throughout the world; and now he seemed to wear a bitter smile as he said, "Old, no good for anything anymore."

With that, as if unwilling to pursue the subject, he changed tack. "Brother Nether King, you are long since the master of the Nether King's sect, of equal standing with me. If you do not disdain it, just call me elder brother—pray do not go on calling me 'elder,' I cannot bear the title."

The Nether King laughed aloud, his manner easy, and sat down on the other side of the table. "Elder, that is not well said. Who does not know your virtue and prestige? This great undertaking—we are still counting on you to preside over it!"

The Poison God's face seemed to stiffen for a moment; at once he shook his head. "No, no."

The Nether King was about to say more when the young man across the table, having finished brewing two cups of tea, brought them over and said mildly, "Sect Master, Holy Envoy Qinglong, please take tea."

The Nether King and Qinglong reached out to take them; the Nether King looked the young man over a few more times—fine-featured and clear-eyed, though his complexion seemed a little pale. But one who could attend the Poison God here must surely be close to him.

The Nether King turned to the Poison God. "This is...?"

The Poison God smiled. "My closed-door disciple, taken ten years ago—Qin Wujiu. I saw then that his aptitude was good, and took him in. Wuyan, come and pay your respects to these two elders—they are personages of no small renown in our Holy Church; if you can win their favor hereafter, it will be worth more than a hundred years of bitter cultivation."

Qin Wujiu bowed his head slightly, his expression neither proud nor shy, his voice unchanged, still steady and gentle: "I have met the Sect Master and the Holy Envoy. I was remiss in courtesy just now; pray forgive me, both of you."

The Nether King chuckled and waved a hand; Qinglong laughed too. "For this young brother to enter the seat of the Poison God's teaching, his future is boundless—boundless indeed!"

The Poison God chuckled and said to them both, "The child knows no better; do not take offense."

The Nether King waved a hand, laughing. "Where did that come from?" He paused, then said, "But Elder, I came today in true sincerity, hoping you would preside over the great undertaking—that our four great factions join hands to wash away the old humiliation of Qingyun's great defeat and the Holy Hall's disgrace."

The Poison God was silent a moment, his face seeming somewhat bleak, and only after a long while said, "Brother, I am half a cripple now, truly unfit for great use. This time, when our four great sects secretly agreed to besiege Qingyun, I of course could not lag behind, else I should fail the Holy Mother Youming and the Ming King Tian Sha, and fail the successive patriarchs of the Holy Church as well. Only, as for the seat of presiding over the whole affair—I think that apart from your own great talent and strategy, brother, no one else could possibly fill it!"

The Nether King frowned and shook his head. "Elder, you overpraise me. Among the four sect masters I am the least in seniority—how could I bear it? Let it be thus: when the 'Jade Sun Master' of the Longevity Hall and the 'Fairy Sanmiao' of the Soul-Bewitching Sect arrive, we shall discuss it together."

The Poison God pondered a moment. "That will do as well. They should arrive within these few days; we shall gather then. This century-old shame of the Holy Church—this time we must exact it from the Canglan Sect."

The Nether King smiled, sat a while longer, exchanged a few idle words, and then took his leave with Qinglong. The Poison God did not press them to stay, and ordered attendants to see them out.

Leaving the Poison God's mansion, the Nether King and Qinglong merged into the crowds of He Yin City.

The Nether King suddenly gave a cold laugh. "This old monster truly grows harder to deal with by the day."