Chapter 146 — A Vicious Scheme

A thousand li away, it was likewise deep night; the bright moon hung high in the sky, gazing quietly down upon this mortal world.

Out on the wild plain, another figure raised his head to look upon that cold moon. He wore a long robe with wide sleeves, still in the garb of a Daoist, and on his sharply cut face the faint, imposing air of one who commanded without anger was still discernible.

The night wind drifted across the fields, swaying the wild grass; between the stirring of garments and the silence, it seemed even time itself had come to a standstill.

Only, who can hold fast to the years? In the blink of an eye, in the moment one's thoughts wandered, ten years had passed after all.

Someone sighed, the sound light and clear, drifting slowly away on the wind.

Amid this stillness, a voice suddenly came from afar, carrying a thread of laughter: "On such a fine night with such beautiful scenery, you take in the moon all alone, Daoist—truly a man of good spirits!"

The voice had begun far off, but by the time the sentence was finished it had already arrived behind the Daoist. The Daoist drew a deep breath and turned around; there beneath the moonlight stood, unmistakably, Cangyan Daoren, who ten years ago had colluded with the demon cult and rebelled against Qingyun.

And standing not far behind him was the smiling sect master of the Mingwang Sect, Mingwang himself—only at this moment, though Mingwang's complexion was as it had always been, his crown of white hair made him look considerably more haggard than before. Only in his eyes did another kind of blazing light glimmer faintly, more piercing than in former days.

Cangyan Daoren's gaze rested briefly on Mingwang's hair, and the calm composure of his expression changed; in astonishment he said, "Sect Master, your hair—how..."

Mingwang gave a faint smile. Such a reaction from Cangyan Daoren was, in fact, exactly what he had anticipated. For one of his profound cultivation, even a hundred years would scarcely alter his appearance; yet now he had turned white-haired in three days, and outsiders like Cang Song, who knew nothing of the cause, would naturally be astonished beyond measure, supposing he had encountered some problem in his cultivation.

Mingwang offered no explanation, nor did his expression change much; smiling, he said only, "Though you and I are both cultivators, we are, after all, mortal still—and in gratitude and grievance, in love and hate, there is always something to break the heart."

Cangyan Daoren composed his face and said gravely, "True enough. I have spoken out of turn."

Mingwang shook his head with a smile, walked over to Cangyan Daoren's side with his hands clasped behind his back, and said amiably, "Let it pass. But since the great battle at Qingyun ten years ago, I have heard that you were honored by the Wandu Sect as a presiding elder, held in the highest esteem. I wonder—what matter of such urgency has moved you to summon me here tonight? If the revered Poison God were to learn of it, it would be nothing to me, but for you, Daoist, I fear it would bring no small inconvenience."

Cangyan Daoren regarded Mingwang for a long while; Mingwang asked nothing further but kept his smile and waited. After a good while, Cang Song sighed and said, "Sect Master, you are indeed beyond the common run. In truth, I summoned you tonight because there is a grave matter I wished to discuss."

Mingwang said, "Speak, Daoist."

Cang Song glanced at Mingwang and said, "Does the Sect Master know that the Poison God, master of the Wandu Sect, passed away three days ago?"

Cangyan Daoren's voice was not loud, yet it struck like a thunderclap in a soundless place; even a man of Mingwang's composure could not keep from starting, his countenance changing drastically as the words burst from him: "What?"

Cang Song fixed his eyes on Mingwang and said, "The Poison God died three days ago. He left a final command, passing the position of sect master to his youngest disciple, Qin Wujiu."

Mingwang gradually steadied himself, but his brows remained deeply knit; his face was calm, yet within him it was as though a thousand troops and ten thousand horses came surging at once, a turmoil of thoughts churning without cease.

Of the three great factions of the demon cult that now stood in opposition, the one he feared most was this old poison, grown cunning as a spirit—the old monster of the Wandu Sect. While he lived, the Mingwang Sect had scarcely any chance of dragging the Wandu Sect down from its place as the cult's foremost faction. But now this old poison, who had once seemed as though he would never die, had passed away thus, without a sound!

Mingwang drew a deep breath, brought his gaze back to Cangyan Daoren's face, and suddenly smiled. "The revered elder Poison God was a man of great virtue and prestige in our Holy Cult; his unfortunate passing is truly cause for grief." The words of mourning left his lips, but where in his smile was there the slightest trace of grief?

And Cangyan Daoren, standing across from him, wore a face equally indifferent; plainly neither of these two harbored any fond remembrance of the dead old man.

"However," Mingwang seemed to show a measure of caution, "before I came, how was it that I heard nothing of this news at all? These past three days the Wandu Sect has been quite calm, yet not a whisper has leaked out."

Cangyan Daoren smiled, with a faint note of contempt: "After the old man died, he passed the command to Qin Wujiu to take up the sect master's seat. But the other disciples who rushed back to attend his death refused to let the matter rest—they have quarreled endlessly over the succession and have kept the old man's death under wraps for the time being. As of now, apart from a few presiding elders, myself included, most of the Wandu Sect's disciples still know nothing of it."

What sort of man was Mingwang? He understood at once; a trace of a smile surfaced at the corner of his mouth. After a moment's thought he said to Cangyan Daoren, "This is no small matter, and that you should confide it to me shows the depth of your regard. I am deeply grateful."

Cangyan Daoren smiled and said, "I would not presume."

Mingwang's eyes flickered. "Has the Daoist anything else to say? Speak freely, there is no harm."

Cangyan Daoren gave a cold snort. "The Sect Master is a leader of great talent and grand strategy, so I shall not beat about the bush. The Wandu Sect is now no place for Cang Song to remain. I beg the Sect Master to remember our acquaintance of former years and take me in."

Mingwang said in astonishment, "What is the Daoist saying? A man such as you, I could only wish for—I have long admired you these many years. It was only that you have always held high station in the Wandu Sect and that we are of the same Holy Cult that I dared not presume to invite you. Can it be that since the revered Poison God's death, something has changed?"

Cangyan Daoren nodded. "The Sect Master has a keen eye. The Poison God indeed treated me well, but that Qin Wujiu and I have never been on good terms. Moreover, with the Wandu Sect now contending for the seat, every expert in the sect has entrenched himself upon his own hill, each facing off against the others. In my judgment, even if someone should unify the poison sect and secure the position, it will surely have suffered grievous losses to its vitality—it will not be able to contend with anyone for a long while yet."

Mingwang laughed—a laugh quite loud and clear, echoing out across the wild plain. After a moment he reined in his smile and said gravely, "Rest assured, Daoist. Qin Wujiu is a mere whelp who cannot recognize the Daoist's great talents. I ask the Daoist to come to my Mingwang Sect and condescend to take the seat of a presiding elder, to act as your heart directs, free of any care for the future."

Cangyan Daoren's face showed delight; he nodded and said, "Then I thank the Sect Master."