Chapter 132 — The Fierce Spirit

Along the way he met many disciples of the Nether King Sect; all who saw him bowed their heads in salute, and the Nether King paid them no heed, walking slowly on until he reached the end of the path—the Chamber of Cold Ice.

He stood before the door, and his face, usually steady as Mount Tai, suddenly seemed to have aged greatly. With a low sigh he pushed the stone door open and went in.

A gust of cold air struck his face, and the Nether King closed the stone door behind him. The Chamber of Cold Ice was not large, and its furnishings were of the simplest—only a stone platform of cold ice in the center of the room, upon which Bi Li lay quietly, her face white as snow, without a trace of color, her hands folded over her breast, clasping the golden Bells of Union.

A woman sat silently at her side, gazing at her.

The Nether King walked up, his gaze falling upon his beloved daughter's face. Of a sudden the corner of his eye twitched, and even the hands clasped behind his back could not help clenching tight.

Ten years. Ten whole years.

In ten years scarcely a day had passed that he did not grieve for his daughter—so much so that he had deliberately cut down his visits to Bi Li, lest he be unable to extricate himself.

His only, his beloved daughter...

His voice too had grown low and hoarse. "You Si, leave me alone with Yao'er for a while."

You Si rose slowly, turned, gave the Nether King a slight bow, and went out.

The Nether King's gaze swept over her figure, and he said not a word.

"Thud."

At a soft sound the stone door opened and closed again, and in the Chamber of Cold Ice there remained only father and daughter.

The Nether King slowly sat down beside Bi Li.

"Yao'er, your father has not come to see you for a long while. Are you angry with me..." His low voice echoed quietly through the stone chamber, laden with endless bitterness.

Only Bi Li, lying there as serene and calm as ever.

The Nether King gazed at that beautiful face, staring blankly. "You look so much like your mother! Even your temper is much the same. Do you know, Yao'er..."

"When your mother passed, I could not be there to see her one last time. But I know she entrusted you to me. All these years, I have feared only that I might not treat you well, and so have no face to meet your mother in the Nine Springs. But... but..."

This man, whom countless in the world today feared and hated, now found even his voice trembling faintly. He spoke the words he had spoken a thousand times in ten years: "How could you, how could you be so foolish..."

Bi Li gave no answer, lying still and calm before him. Upon her pale countenance there was no trace of suffering or sorrow; on the contrary, there seemed faintly a hint of a smile.

"Yao'er..." The Nether King called softly, and said no more. He simply sat there quietly, keeping company with his only, his beloved daughter.

Until, upon the stone door of the Chamber of Cold Ice, there suddenly came a "thump-thump" of knocking.

The Nether King frowned, and a flash of killing intent passed through his eyes. In these ten years, save for that Ming Li, none had dared disturb him while he kept company with his daughter. As for Ming Li, in his eyes there had always been only Bi Li; the Nether King had never reproached him for it.

But now Ming Li was not here, and someone dared to violate the Nether King's great taboo—a rare thing indeed. The Nether King gave a cold snort, rose, and with his sleeve gently wiped away the faint trace of tears at the corner of his eye. He drew a deep breath, and by the time he turned around he was once more the Nether King whom countless feared and revered.

He walked slowly to the door, opened the stone door, and went out.

Outside stood only one man—Qing Long.

The Nether King frowned. Qing Long was the chief of the four great holy envoys of the Nether King Sect's previous generation, and moreover his right hand and trusted confidant, one on whom he had always relied heavily. His conduct had always been prudent; never would he presume to disturb the Nether King's time with Bi Li.

It seemed some grave matter had indeed arisen.

The Nether King looked at him, and Qing Long said in a low voice, "Word has come back from the southern lands."

The Nether King frowned. "What word?"

Qing Long glanced at the Nether King. "I hear Ming Li has found the one who knows the lost art of soul-returning, and has set out with him on the road back."

This was no small matter. Even one of the Nether King's composure could not keep joy from his face; he could not help stepping forward. "Is it true?"

Qing Long nodded, sighing inwardly. Blood is thicker than water—truly none can sever it.

The Nether King raised his head to the sky, drew a deep breath, and steadied his agitated heart, though his hands still trembled faintly. "Who is this man? How did Ming Li find him?"

Qing Long said, "The man is the Great Shaman of the Miao, one of the five tribes of the southern borderlands. As for how Ming Li knew he possessed the lost art of soul-returning, that I do not know."

The Nether King nodded. "No matter. So long as he can save Yao'er, so long as he can save Yao'er, all is well..." His words came urgent and earnest, as though he wished the Great Shaman and Ming Li were before him at this very moment.

"How many days have they been on the road? How long until they arrive?" the Nether King pressed.

Qing Long said, "This word was passed back by Ming Li himself, through our scouts in the southern region. I hear it is because the Great Shaman is gravely wounded and cannot fly, and so they must make their way slowly on foot."

The Ghost King started. "Badly wounded? What happened?"

"From what I hear, the wound was taken in infighting among the five tribes of the southern border. And also," Qing Long hesitated a moment, "it seems Ming Li was badly hurt as well—and the wound came from the hand of the righteous path."

The Ghost King's gaze sharpened. "What happened?"

Qing Long shook his head. "The particulars are still unclear. That stretch of the southern border has always been the territory of the Fenxia Valley; our people have difficulty getting in. I fear the details will have to wait until Ming Li returns. But the south has always been Bai Hu's charge, and it was he who sent back this news. Yet in his words there seemed to be..."

The Ghost King said coldly, "What did Bai Hu say?"

Qing Long was silent a moment. "Bai Hu mentioned that returning together with Ming Li was a—a seductive woman."

The Ghost King's expression changed.

Qing Long glanced at the Ghost King and slowly went on, "Moreover, Bai Hu made a point of mentioning one thing in his report: that the monkey at Ming Li's side seems... not quite the same as before."

A cold gleam flashed in the Ghost King's eyes. After a long while he said slowly, "The Three-Eyed Spirit Monkey—has it opened its spirit eye?"

Qing Long was silent, and said nothing.

Outside the Cold Ice Stone Chamber, all at once a hush fell. The Ghost King turned slowly, his gaze coming to rest upon that stone door. His eyes seemed to pass through the thick stone and behold that tranquil woman.

"Yao'er, are you watching your father..."

In his heart, the Ghost King murmured this softly.

The Ten Thousand Wild Mountains, the Ancient Cave of Demon Suppression.

Jin Pingyue moved without a sound, drawing near the mouth of that mysterious, sinister ancient cave.

By now the shaman demon had been inside a long while, and that vicious spirit had vanished and not appeared again. The whole cave mouth lay in cold, desolate silence; only the baleful wind blowing out from the Ancient Cave of Demon Suppression still howled without cease.

Gradually Jin Pingyue drew close to that stone statue of a woman. Warily she approached; all around remained still, until she had come to within three feet of the stone woman, and there was still only the whistling wind—no other sound at all.