Chapter 134 — Baleful Aura

Slowly wiping the astonishment from her face and schooling her features back to their usual calm, Xiaobai glanced at the Great Shaman. She had not expected this old man, who seemed so weary and half-dead, to possess such keen senses—it appeared the shamanic arts of the Southern Frontier truly had their own merits.

She nodded slowly and lowered her voice. "What a heavy baleful aura!"

The Great Shaman was silent a moment, then nodded. Both of them turned at once toward Ming Li beside them—and saw that his face, too, bore an unnatural look.

Within his sleeve, the Blood-Devouring Pearl on the black Soul-Devourer suddenly lit up, its blood-red radiance swirling without cease, shining through even the fabric of his robe.

Ming Li slowly drew out the Soul-Devourer and held it up before him. At the head of this demonic staff the Blood-Devouring Pearl glowed strangely, ring upon ring, layer upon layer of crimson light slowly spreading; the threads of blood-vein upon the pearl itself grew clearer one by one, distinct to the eye. And along his wrist, the Blood-Devouring Pearl sent wave after wave of icy breath, faintly tinged with excitement, coursing through his whole body.

Ming Li's gaze was deep; he raised his head and looked up at the towering mountain before him, a strange light flickering in his eyes.

It was the sign of the Blood-Devouring Pearl's ravenous thirst for blood!

To him, this was long since all too familiar.

The Nether King himself stood at the entrance of the Nether King Sect's headquarters, waiting to welcome them outside a hidden door concealed behind a great boulder. It was not hard to imagine how greatly he valued the Great Shaman whom Ming Li had brought back.

After the three of them appeared before him, the Nether King gave Ming Li a casual nod by way of greeting, then strode quickly to the Great Shaman, sizing him up briefly from head to foot. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Master, your body..."

The Great Shaman smiled faintly. "A dying man, this old one; such is my fate. I have come today only to do what little I can. Whether it succeeds or not must be left to heaven's will."

The Nether King bowed deeply from the waist, a full salute, and said in a solemn voice, "Master, you are a transcendent figure; I shall not trouble you with empty courtesies. The road has been hard, and the night grows late. Pray let me impose on you to rest a night in the mountain caves here, however humbly, and tomorrow I shall seek your counsel."

The Great Shaman nodded; from his expression, he was indeed thoroughly exhausted.

The Nether King beckoned, and someone hurried over to support the Great Shaman inside. The assembled crowd parted to make way, and moments later the Great Shaman's figure vanished into the belly of the mountain.

The Nether King slowly turned. Now, standing before him besides Ming Li was a woman of strangely alluring beauty behind him. As for the monkey Xiao Hui, its three eyes darted about, taking the measure of the crowd ahead.

The Nether King's gaze rested a moment on Xiao Hui, then flicked to Xiaobai behind Ming Li, and finally returned to the young man before him.

"You are wounded?" the Nether King said slowly.

Ming Li was silent; he only nodded.

The gathering suddenly fell quiet. The two men stood face to face, and the atmosphere was somewhat strange. Ten years—for ten years the Nether King had carefully instructed Ming Li, and yet between the two of them there seemed always to lie a deep, invisible gulf.

Behind the Nether King stood Qinglong, Yousi, and many other disciples.

Ming Li's gaze swept slowly over them. Many faces he knew, for many of them were the ones whose small Demonic Cult factions he had destroyed, folding those forces under the Nether King Sect's banner. Now the former elders of the Blood-Refining Hall, the year-old leader and the rest, also stood among the crowd.

Only that Daoist Wild Wolf was absent—was he still roaming the world with that fortune-teller Zhou Yixuan and his granddaughter?

The Nether King Sect's power seemed to grow ever greater.

The mountain wind blew past, lifting someone's garments to flap and whistle. Deep in the belly of the mountain, a dark shadow seemed to stir faintly.

Ming Li withdrew his gaze. Though he could not see clearly, he knew who stood in that darkness—Mr. Ghost!

That mysterious figure seemed forever hidden in the dark, lurking behind the Nether King.

"This young lady—is she a friend of yours? You brought her back?" the Nether King asked mildly, no trace of anything unusual upon his face.

Ming Li hesitated. "She says she is an old friend of yours, and wished to come back and visit you."

The Nether King started; the answer was far beyond his expectation. He could not help studying Xiaobai a few more times, but could not recall when he had ever known such a woman. "Young lady," he said in surprise, "have we met before?"

Xiaobai stepped forward, sighed, then smiled faintly. "How is Xiaochi? Is she still as before—drifting off in a daze now and then, staring at a flower and losing herself in it, silly and spellbound?"

The Nether King's whole body shook, and a look of rare astonishment came over his face. Nor was it only him; behind him, Qinglong, Yousi, and the others who had followed him so long all changed countenance at once, disbelief written plainly on their faces.

The Nether King stared at Xiaobai. After a long while he said, "Just who are you, that you know of Xiao... of Xiaochi?"

Xiaobai's gaze drifted past the crowd and rose lingeringly upward. In the dusk, the shadow of Huqi Mountain loomed desolate and towering, casting a peculiar air of bleakness.

How much time had slipped away like sand between the fingers...

"Do you still remember," she said softly, "how this mountain came by its name?"

The Nether King's eyes lit up, his gaze sharp and bright, yet his astonishment only deepened. "You are Bai—"

Xiaobai said calmly, "I am the White Fox!"

The mountain wind swept past with a wail, lifting the light dust from the ground and bearing it silently into the distance.

In the secluded stone chamber the furnishings were simple: table, chairs, bed—plain, unadorned furniture. This was the bedchamber of the Nether King Sect's master.

The one somewhat striking item was perhaps the red sandalwood desk set against the stone wall, upon which lay three thick stacks of books in neat array. On the desktop stood a white jade brush-rest holding a small weasel-hair brush, and beside it an inkstone whose ink was not yet fully dry. A little further off was a blue-and-white brush-washer, bright and translucent, half filled with clear water.

All of this lent an air of refined elegance, not the least suggestion of what the world would imagine the master of a great Demonic Cult faction to be.

The Nether King and Xiaobai now stood in this room, and apart from them there was no third person present.

On the stone wall of the chamber's other side hung a gold-traced painting in fine brushwork: a beautiful woman bending close to examine a blossoming flower, with a pair of butterflies fluttering at the flower's edge. Yet the woman in the painting looked so closely, so intently, all her spirit fixed upon the blossom, that she took no notice whatever of the butterflies beside her.

The brushwork was delicate, the meticulous line and slow tracing peculiar to the fine style rendered to the fullest by the painter's hand; the woman in the painting seemed almost to breathe, and the absorbed, foolish devotion in her face fairly sprang from the silk.

Xiaobai gazed silently at the woman in the painting. After a long while she sighed softly. "Your skill is truly remarkable, to paint Xiaochi so faithfully—seeing the picture is like seeing her in person."