Chapter 20 — Drawing Lots

There, beside the jade-green pool, the great beast that had been sleeping soundly—the Water Qilin—suddenly awoke. It turned its head with a vicious glare, its huge eyes radiating boundless malice, the hairs on its back standing on end one by one. It opened its vast, blood-red maw, revealing two long, sharp fangs, and actually took up a posture of attack. And its target was, unmistakably, the Canglan Sect disciples standing on the stone steps.

This Water Qilin was a primordial spirit-beast, an ancient monstrosity. With that single display of menace, the heavens and earth changed color at once; the sky, blue but a moment before, darkened in an instant. As it took its first step toward the steps, the once-gentle mountain breeze became a gale, shrieking shrilly as it swept across the summit of Jietian Peak. And in the jade pool nearest the Qilin, the water changed as well: from mirror-stillness it began to tremble, then abruptly churned violently, the whole pool spinning in a furious whirl, a deep vortex forming at its center. From the depths of that vortex came a sound like distant thunder. Moments later, a great crash, and a column of water shot straight up from the heart of the whirl—three arm-spans thick, and it held together without scattering. It spun once in midair, then bent in a falling arc, as though driven by some force, and came down before the Water Qilin, supple as a swimming dragon, crystalline and translucent, coiling and gliding through the air.

By now, every Canglan disciple on the steps—even Qi Hao and the others of the deepest cultivation—had lost all composure. Their faces had all changed; some were even pale and trembling slightly.

The reason the Water Qilin had been able to serve as Patriarch Qingye's right hand in vanquishing demons a thousand years ago, and had been revered by the Canglan Sect above all others for a millennium, was fully revealed in this moment. Among the five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, earth—the Water Qilin was the supreme spirit-creature of water. Merely to watch its mastery of water summoned from nothing: no aid of any kind, a water column drawn forth thick and held unbroken, coiling through the air without the slightest sign of strain—its spiritual power was immense, its mental focus utterly pure, far surpassing any ordinary cultivator of the mortal world. Even in the Canglan Sect, where masters were as numerous as clouds, setting aside achieving this by mental focus alone, there were few who could reach such a standard even with the aid of magic treasures.

In that moment, heaven and earth alike darkened, wind and cloud churned; the Canglan disciples, seeing the Spirit Lord Water Qilin roused to a fury it had not shown in more than a thousand years, all stood dumbstruck, not knowing what to do. But swift as words can tell—faster than the eye could follow—the Water Qilin roared without cease, its eyes glaring wide, the frenzy and hatred in them growing ever denser, as though it sensed some deep, mortal enmity, some thing it loathed beyond measure, and meant to fight it to the death, without end. And the thick water column coiling before the beast spun faster and faster, until with a sudden great report—boom!—the colossal column, with immeasurable force, came crashing down upon the Qingyun disciples on the steps.

At that critical instant, a shout came from midair: "Spirit Lord, stay your wrath!"

A figure in dark green appeared, as though out of thin air, in the air between the Water Qilin and the Qingyun disciples. It was Dao Yan, headmaster of the Canglan Sect. Five years had not altered him in the least; he was as he had always been, crane-boned and immortal in bearing. But now his brows were tightly knit, clearly as puzzled as anyone by the Water Qilin's sudden onslaught. Yet the situation was urgent: behind him stood several dozen of the Canglan Sect's finest young disciples, and before him the shrieking water column rippled with light, faintly revealing the shapes of monstrous beasts—the souls, plainly, of the fierce creatures the Water Qilin had slain in years past, swallowed into its body after death, unable to pass on, now driven into the water column to swell its might. Even Dao Yan, for all his heaven-spanning powers, could not but feel his heart quail.

Seeing the column about to strike, Dao Yan had nowhere to evade. He drew a deep breath and chanted, "Boundless Heavenly Worthy!" He raised both hands, cradling an invisible sphere, fingers of each hand formed into the sword-mudra. Seeming slow, in truth swift, he traced a Taiji diagram before him. In a moment the pattern shone in the void, white light pulsing, auspicious vapor seething. Then Dao Yan spun about; the dark green Daoist robe on his body billowed without wind, then abruptly swept off him. The Taiji diagram in the air, as though commanded, rushed onto the robe and was in that instant branded upon it. This dark green robe was evidently an immortal treasure too, for receiving the diagram, with a whoosh it grew at once with the wind, swelling more than ten times larger in moments, lying broad across the air.

With a heavy splash, the water column the Water Qilin commanded struck the enlarged dark green robe. From within the column came continuous hissing roars, as though those beast-souls were shrieking in furious rage. Under the heavy blow, the robe recoiled several zhang; the spot where the column struck bulged deeply inward, showing plainly the enormity of the force.

The young Qingyun disciples on the steps, nearly stupefied, felt a sudden great gust of wind surge over them; every one of them lost his footing. Apart from a few of deeper cultivation who barely held their ground, most went tumbling left and right. They all paled; had Dao Yan not stepped in to block this thunderous blow of the Water Qilin, who knew what might have come of it.

Zhang Qingyue, face white, lost his footing and pitched sideways. Lin Jinghong caught sight of it from the corner of his eye and reached out to steady him, but his own body lurched, and he toppled the other way instead, too busy saving himself to help.

Zhang Qingyue, badly startled, instinctively let go of the hand he had tucked inside his robes, gripping that "Dark Iron Rod," and flung it out desperately to find something to hold. He did not notice at all that the moment his hand left the rod, the chill sensation vanished without a trace.

In the air, Dao Yan stood stern-faced, braced for anything. Behind him came a series of swishing sounds, and a dozen more figures appeared, standing in the void at his back. Foremost was Cangsong Zhenren; the rest were the six peak lords and the elders of each peak—Tian Buhui and Su Wan among them—every face grave.

All the Canglan masters were gathered here now. In this world, faced with such a display, anyone would have felt the better part of his courage drain away. Yet the Water Qilin, ringed about by the headmaster and peak lords and elders of deep attainment, showed not the slightest fear. But under the gaze of all those eyes, its furious glare suddenly softened, taking on instead a strange look, as though greatly bewildered. The mighty water column before it shrank slowly, and at last lost control and fell to the ground with a splash, soaking the earth.

Its menace gone, the Water Qilin yet stood enormous where it was, still fearsome enough. It ignored the elders in midair entirely, its eyes fixed on the young disciples on the steps, sweeping back and forth, then it sniffed at the air a few times, as though catching no scent at all. After a long while, having repeated these strange motions many times over, it seemed at last to give up. It shook its huge head, turned about, waddled off to another patch of open ground, and lay down, resting its head on its forelegs and half-closing its eyes. Before long, incredibly, its snoring rose again.

The Canglan Sect members all looked at one another, dumbfounded.