Chapter 157 — Secret

Ming Li gave a low whistle and beckoned with his right hand; the Soul-Devouring Black Staff flew back, pierced the clod from behind, and in an instant it crumbled to pieces—yet a black silhouette darted out, drifting light as a wraith to alight upon the mysterious coffin deep in the room. It was, unmistakably, the figure of Mr. Ghost.

The Soul-Devourer drifted slowly down and returned to Ming Li's hand. Ming Li fixed his eyes on Mr. Ghost and did not move; and Mr. Ghost too turned slowly and looked at Ming Li, then suddenly said, "How did you see through my hiding place?"

Ming Li was silent and gave no answer, only watching him coldly. Mr. Ghost's black veil stirred slightly; he nodded and said, "Very well. You and I may not be friends hereafter, so it is only natural you will not say. But tonight is not yet over—I should like to see just how deep the cultivation runs in this man who, by all accounts, has mastered the true arts of three great factions at once."

Ming Li's pupils contracted slightly. Though he had caught Mr. Ghost off guard and driven the Soul-Devourer into his hidden place, gaining the upper hand, his expression had not eased in the slightest. He had struck the unforeseen with the deliberate, driving the Soul-Devourer into the clod of earth—yet Mr. Ghost was truly like a wraith, hollow and empty, showing not the least sign that the Blood-Devouring Bead's demonic power affected him at all. This man was so unfathomable that he was unlike any Ming Li had ever met.

Seeing the two locked in confrontation, and sensing that another fierce contest of arts was about to begin, Zhou Yixuan, his shaken nerves somewhat steadied, hastily tugged at Xiaowan and Wild Wolf Daoist. The two came to themselves, knowing that with two men of such uncanny arts dueling here, the place was perilous in the extreme; they scrambled to find a gap in the already battered wall and squeeze through. Just before leaving, Xiaowan seemed to remember something, reached out a hand, and took up Zhou Xingyun's spirit tablet as well.

The three of them left the house one after another—Ming Li and Mr. Ghost were of course perfectly aware of it, but Ming Li gave no sign, and Mr. Ghost, with a formidable foe before him, seemed unable to spare them a thought. Barely had they gotten clear when a great wind rose again within the gloomy house, sand flying and stones hurtling, and where Zhou Yixuan and the others stood beyond the gap in the wall they were still shoved back several feet by the violent gale.

Zhou Yixuan pulled Xiaowan far back—a full three zhang away—before he turned to gaze at the house from afar. But from this distance he could no longer sense that two masters were dueling fiercely within; it seemed they had kept their power confined to the compass of that room all along. And seen from afar, the house now flickered with strange lights: besides the ghostly green that had been there from the start, there now flashed from time to time gold, red, deathly white, azure, and many another uncanny hue—were it not for the grim ghostly aura and the thick killing intent, one might almost have called it a gay and pretty sight.

Xiaowan stared at the house and said softly to Zhou Yixuan, who seemed about ready to flee: "Grandfather, is it really all right for us to just leave like this?"

Zhou Yixuan and Wild Wolf Daoist, walking beside him, both started and turned to look at Xiaowan. Zhou Yixuan frowned and said, "Silly girl, what are you thinking? Those two are murderous fiends, both of them. We are lucky to escape with our lives—what would we stay here for?"

Xiaowan hesitated a moment, then said, "But—but he did it to save us, that's why he..."

Wild Wolf Daoist looked at her and said nothing. Zhou Yixuan said impatiently, "How can you be so muddled? Ming Li's cultivation is deep—what is there to fear for him? And besides, they are dogs biting dogs—no, wait, one is called Ming Li and the other Mr. Ghost, so I suppose it is ghost fighting ghost. Ghost fighting ghost—what has that to do with us? Hurry, hurry!"

With that he took Xiaowan by the hand and set off. Xiaowan hesitated a moment, but in the end let Zhou Yixuan pull her away. Wild Wolf Daoist glanced back once at the gloomy house flickering with strange lights—wild radiance leaping, and faintly the roar of a fierce wind—and a complicated look came into his eyes. He said nothing, paused a moment, then turned and hurried after Zhou Yixuan and the others.

********

Within the gloomy house, a little over half a cup of tea's time had now passed. The room, cluttered to begin with, was now a scene of utter ruin—broken stone and shattered wall everywhere, and even the floor, dilapidated before, now looked as though an earthquake had passed and then an ox had dragged a plow across it: clods heaved unevenly, stones jutting up, scarcely a spot left to stand.

Ming Li and Mr. Ghost now both floated in midair, having paused for the moment, gazing at each other, and both seemed to be breathing a little hard. Only Little Gray on Ming Li's shoulder seemed restive; bored, it opened its mouth in a yawn and stretched.

Mr. Ghost suddenly said, "I never imagined your cultivation could advance so swiftly. In but ten years you have managed to fuse the true arts of Daoism, Buddhism, and the demonic path into one—truly no small thing."

Ming Li looked at this mysterious man in black and said coldly, "Nor did I imagine that you were not of the demonic sect at all, but a man of the southern borderlands' shamanic ghost path."

At this his eyes suddenly showed a dark red light. Fixing them on Mr. Ghost, his voice turned ice-cold: "Since you know the ghost path so well, then the art to restore Bi Li's soul—you..."

Before he could finish, Mr. Ghost cut in: "You are wrong. I know a little of the ghost path's strange arts, but the soul-restoring method is a secret art of the Black Shaman clan of the southern borderlands, and I do not know it. Otherwise, given my friendship with the Ghost King, I would long since have restored Miss Bi Li."

Ming Li watched him coldly, the red light flickering uncertainly in his eyes, as though weighing whether Mr. Ghost's words could be believed. Mr. Ghost, for his part, was silent a moment, then suddenly said, "Since you are set on protecting those three tonight, then for the sake of our both belonging to the Ghost King Sect, I will spare them this once. There is little point in you and me fighting here—let us call a halt."

Ming Li sneered inwardly. He was long past the ignorant youth he had once been; in that harrowing contest just now, had his cultivation been insufficient or his concentration slipped once, he would have died a hundred times over—and at such a moment no one would have spoken of their both belonging to the Ghost King Sect. Yet Mr. Ghost was truly an unfathomable figure. Though Ming Li did not fear him, that contest had shown him the man's arts were uncanny and that he was a most difficult adversary, and he was unwilling to press him rashly. So he nodded and said mildly, "As you wish."

Mr. Ghost drifted slowly down. The gloomy house was now a shambles; most of the original coffins had burst asunder, and only the one set upon the yin ground remained whole. Mr. Ghost alighted upon it, was silent a moment, and said, "What brings you to Canglan Mountain?"

Ming Li said coldly, "And what brings you?"

Mr. Ghost said indifferently, "The world is in chaos—a time of turmoil, with beast-demons running rampant. This clash between the orthodox path and the beast-demons at Qingyun is now unavoidable. How could I not come to see such a grand spectacle?"

Ming Li looked at him and said, "As you say—between the orthodox path and the beast-demons, which will prevail?"