Chapter 119 — The Pursuit

Burning Cloud Valley.

Tianxiang Lodge.

It was a quiet spot deep within Burning Cloud Valley, built hard against the mountain. High walls enclosed it on three sides, and only the front gate stood slightly ajar, so that one could not make out what lay within.

For all the upheaval that had shaken Burning Cloud Valley in recent days, not a single disciple of the valley was to be seen in the vicinity—for this was the dwelling of the valley master, Yun Yifeng, and the place where he had sealed himself away in cultivation.

Ever since Yun Yifeng had entered his retreat, no disciple of Burning Cloud Valley had been permitted to set foot here; the outer perimeter, to be sure, was guarded as impenetrably as a wall of bronze. Of those who could enter Tianxiang Lodge, aside from Shangguan Lue, upon whom Yun Yifeng had long leaned so heavily, only his personal disciple Li Xun could come and go, to stand before his master.

As for everyone else, elders such as Lü Shun included, entry was likewise forbidden.

Even after someone had slipped into the valley's Mystic Fire Altar and released the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox, imprisoned there for three hundred years—and even when the legendary Xuanhuo Mirror, the valley's most treasured relic, might have fallen into outside hands—Yun Yifeng had not come out of seclusion, but had merely left Shangguan Lue to take charge of the situation.

What manner of cultivation was he sealed away in, there in that little courtyard?

The question lingered, from time to time, in the minds of many a Burning Cloud Valley disciple.

The sky was gradually brightening. In the faint dampness of the morning air, Shangguan Lue pushed the gate open, stepped inside, and drew it shut behind him.

Before him lay a small courtyard he knew well: a few bodhi trees swaying their branches softly in the morning breeze, and, apart from a narrow path down the middle, green grass everywhere. Nothing else besides.

The dwelling place of the leader of one of the three great orthodox sects of the world seemed to verge on plain austerity.

At the end of the path stood a two-sectioned house of white tiles and grey walls, built against the mountainside, its paulownia door lacquered purple and likewise left slightly ajar.

Shangguan Lue walked over, pushed the door open, and closed it again.

Silence fell at once around him, as though the clamor of the mortal world had been shut outside by the mere movement of his hand.

There was no one in the room, only a few pieces of simple furniture; a thin layer of dust seemed to lie upon the tables and chairs.

Shangguan Lue steadied himself, went straight into the inner room, and came to a cabinet. He pulled open the drawer on the left, reached inside, and seemed to turn something. Moments later, a low sound rose from behind him.

The entire wall slowly slid away to the right, revealing the hard rock of the mountainside and, cut into it, a hidden passage just wide enough for one person to walk.

Shangguan Lue did not hesitate. He stepped inside, and shortly after his figure vanished into the passage, the door slid slowly shut again, leaving not the slightest trace.

Along the hidden passage, glowing pebbles the size of goose eggs were set into the walls at short intervals to give light. Nor did he feel any shortness of breath as he walked—naturally, there must be another channel for air.

The passage was not long, and he soon reached his destination: a stone chamber about the size of the inner room outside. It was empty, save for a screen set across the middle, blocking his view.

Suddenly, from behind the screen, came a voice aged beyond measure: "Is that you, Brother Shangguan?"

Shangguan Lue stepped forward twice and stopped four or five paces from the screen. "It is I, Senior Brother," he said respectfully. "How is your health?"

That voice could belong to none other than Yun Yifeng, valley master of Burning Cloud Valley, whose name shook the world—though for some reason, this titan of the orthodox path, once ranked alongside Daoist Daoyan of the Canglan Sect and Master Pucheng of the Brahma Sound Temple, now sounded all but like a dying old man, his spirit scattered and his breath failing.

He seemed to laugh softly, then said mildly, "My health? Will it ever be well again? Let it be. I'll wait for death, slowly."

Shangguan Lue's expression shifted, his face greatly conflicted, and he was about to speak when Yun Yifeng's listless voice cut him off: "How do matters stand?"

Shangguan Lue was silent a moment, then said, "We have more or less found out. The one who secretly stirred up the fish-folk that night was Jin Pingyue of the Enchanting Sect, of the Demonic Cult. No doubt because her sect's people were slain by the fish-folk in the Dead Marsh, she took ruthless revenge."

Yun Yifeng was silent behind the screen for a moment, then his voice suddenly dropped low: "And has she caught wind of the great matter we are secretly plotting?"

Shangguan Lue's body gave a slight jolt; in that instant, the voice behind the screen had suddenly become full of majesty.

"As I see it, not yet."

"Then good," Yun Yifeng said, clearly relieved. "Otherwise, if the matter were to leak out, the painstaking work of many years would come to nothing."

Shangguan Lue nodded. "Rest easy, Senior Brother."

Yun Yifeng paused, then said, "That person who slipped into the Mystic Fire Altar and freed the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox—have they been found?"

Shangguan Lue said, "Last night our nephew-disciple Li Xun and Ke Ruhui tracked Jin Pingyue to the vicinity of Tianshui Stronghold. From what he reported upon returning this morning, Ming Li of the Nether King Sect of the Demonic Cult also appeared there and struck by ambush, which led to Ke Ruhui being killed in the attack. Fortunately, Lu Xueling of the Canglan Sect, who had come south to inquire after you on behalf of Daoist Daoyan, happened to be passing that way and lent a hand, and so they were able to escape the two demons' pincer."

"Ming Li?" Yun Yifeng's voice paused. "Could that be Zhang Qingyue, who betrayed Qingyun ten years ago?"

Shangguan Lue nodded. "The very man. That battle at Canglan Mountain caused a sensation across the world. Zhang Qingyue betrayed Qingyun, and in a mere ten years his cultivation has advanced by leaps and bounds; today he is the foremost general under the Nether King."

Yun Yifeng gave a snort. "Old Daoyan has grown old, and his wits have grown muddled with him. To have such talent and be unable to use it."

Shangguan Lue smiled, then said, "Our nephew-disciple Li Xun said upon his return that he suspects the one who slipped into the Mystic Fire Altar that night and caused the chaos was Ming Li himself. And to free the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox, without our valley's secret incantations, one would need the Xuanhuo Mirror, essence of all fire, to break the bonds of the Mystic Fire Chain. In his view, the Xuanhuo Mirror is most likely on Ming Li's person."

Yun Yifeng was silent a while, then suddenly said, "What do you think?"

Behind the screen, Shangguan Lue's expression changed. After a moment he said respectfully, "I too think it highly likely."

Yun Yifeng's voice drifted from behind the screen: "When I met old Daoyan in those years, he prided himself on being of the orthodox sects, and always held to the notion of rather let one go than kill the wrong man—and he boasted of it to me. Do you remember?"

Shangguan Lue was startled, not knowing why Yun Yifeng should suddenly bring up so distant a matter, but he could only nod. "Indeed. I was at your side then, Senior Brother, and I remember it clearly. Daoist Daoyan said exactly that."

Yun Yifeng smiled faintly. "But I wonder what was in his heart ten years ago, on the Heaven-Reaching Peak of Canglan Mountain, when he struck at that disciple named Zhang Qingyue with the Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword? I fear by then it was already: rather kill the wrong man than let one go!"

Shangguan Lue was silent.