Chapter 52 — The Fire Dragon

Countless eyes in the darkness were now fixed on the three figures within the halos of light. Zhang Qingyue, for some reason, still felt a chill at heart. He glanced toward Bili and Shi Tou and saw that their expressions were none too pleasant either; doubtless they had never encountered such a scene before.

Even so, the countless creatures around them made no move to attack the two of them. Apart from a few tigers and leopards of seemingly irascible temper that let out a couple of roars, there was scarcely any stir at all—they merely watched in silence.

They continued their slow descent. After another forty or fifty feet, Zhang Qingyue suddenly noticed that the number of glowing eyes around them was gradually dwindling, yet each pair of eyes seemed considerably larger than those he had seen before.

He frowned and silently edged closer to the rock wall. Sure enough, by the light of the Dark Iron Staff, he found that the number of openings in the pitch-black cliff had decreased greatly, but each opening was more than twice the size of those above—nearly every one was as tall as a man. Correspondingly, the creatures within these caves were visibly fiercer and more savage, almost all of them large of body, with sharp fangs and hideous features that made one's heart turn cold at the sight.

One of the more vicious among them, seeing Zhang Qingyue approach, was a beast that resembled a wild boar yet had the bulk of a giant bear. With a roar it swung a massive claw, nearly striking his body.

Startled, Zhang Qingyue hastily drove his artifact and retreated several feet. At the sound, Bili and Shi Tou both looked his way. Zhang Qingyue said softly, "The creatures here all seem to be rather ferocious. We had best be careful."

Bili and Shi Tou both nodded and each focused their attention on guard.

Yet apart from being attacked by those beasts when he drew near the cliff wall, the three of them suffered no other harassment. It seemed that although these creatures were fierce, they possessed no power of flight and could only remain within their caves. As Zhang Qingyue carefully controlled his flight, he mused: These beasts cannot fly—how ever do they hunt for food on this sheer precipice?

Thus the three descended several more yards. By now they had gone at least three hundred feet below the Black Stone Cave's cliff, yet looking down, the vast dark abyss remained deep and bottomless, save for the lights of those strange creatures' eyes around them.

And what differed even more from their expectations was that beneath this abyss there was no chill at all—on the contrary, the temperature here was much higher than on the surface of the Black Stone Cave. Zhang Qingyue even felt himself beginning to sweat. Yet all around remained pitch-black, without the slightest trace of fire or heat. It was most uncanny.

As Shi Tou guided his Demon-Breaker Staff downward, he suddenly cursed under his breath: "Damn it all, that dead fox actually found such a bizarre place to make her den."

Zhang Qingyue thought nothing of it, but then he heard Bili, not far to his side, give a soft "pfft" of laughter. The sound was clear and pleasing; though she kept her voice low, in this silent space it seemed to carry far.

He looked toward her. In the soft white glow of the Heartbreak Flower, Bili's smiling face was like a blossom, her brows and eyes brimming with tenderness. She seemed to sense something as well and turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and Zhang Qingyue's heart gave a leap; he hastily turned his head away again.

Further down, the situation seemed to change somewhat once more. The cave mouths in the cliff wall continued to slowly enlarge, and the creatures within were larger than those in the caves above—already bigger than ordinary men. But here the three unexpectedly found that nearly half the caves were empty. And in the air, which had remained rather fresh all along, there now seemed to come faintly the smell of blood.

The three exchanged glances, wariness in every eye, yet even so they did not slow their descent.

In the boundless darkness beneath their feet, something seemed to flicker softly—like starlight, like a flame.

Above the abyss, Zhou Yixuan and his granddaughter Xiaowan had at last, by the light of their torches and with their hearts in their throats, made their way to the cliff edge from which Zhang Qingyue and the others had leaped. Gazing at the precipice that barred their way and the bottomless abyss below, Zhou Yixuan was struck dumb, unable to speak a word.

Xiaowan, being young after all—though she had roamed the world with her grandfather since childhood—could not help feeling afraid in this dark and silent Black Stone Cave. She poked her head over the cliff edge for a look, then immediately drew it back and whispered to Zhou Yixuan, "Grandfather, is there any way for us to get down?"

Zhou Yixuan rolled his eyes a few times and said dejectedly, "We don't know any Daoist arts, and we didn't bring a rope. This is bad."

Xiaowan, however, breathed a sigh of relief and patted her chest, saying, "Thank goodness, thank goodness."

Zhou Yixuan glared at her. "Thank goodness what? There might be mountains of gold and silver, of agate and jade, waiting for us down there! Now we've—we've—we've taken a huge loss!" His voice was full of lamentation.

Xiaowan gave a humph, took the candied hawthorn stick in her right hand, and bit into it. "Mountains of gold and silver indeed. I say it's more likely mountains of corpses and bones waiting for you! All right, since we can't get down, let's be off. Otherwise, if we run into a demon or two, you—the famous thirteenth-generation heir of the Canglan Patriarch—will lose all face for your founder."

Zhou Yixuan flew into a rage. "Nonsense! What sort of man is Zhou Yixuan, that he would lose face for the founder—"

Before the words were out of his mouth, there came from the darkness along the path behind them, in that silent cave, two sharp "swish" sounds—two streaks of light, swift as lightning, which in the blink of an eye landed before the two of them.

Zhou Yixuan cried out in alarm, pulled Xiaowan back, reached into his robe with his right hand, and gripped a yellow paper talisman, about to cast a spell of escape. But the light flickered twice and revealed two figures. The newcomers moved like ghosts; before Zhou Yixuan could even draw out his talisman, there was a crisp "hiss," and something cold pressed against his neck. Every hair on his body stood on end, and he cried out inwardly in dismay.

After a moment's composure, Zhou Yixuan realized the other party had not struck to take his life, but the thing at his neck had not been withdrawn either. Summoning his courage, he looked at the two—a young man and a young woman. The man's face was like fine jade, exceedingly handsome; the woman's face was like a lotus, incomparably beautiful.

Though the two were still a full ten feet from Zhou Yixuan and Xiaowan, the man's raised hand held an artifact shaped like a jade ruler, pure and warm, pressed against Zhou Yixuan's neck, while the beautiful woman simultaneously controlled a cyan immortal sword that held Xiaowan in check. Poor Xiaowan was frightened pale; her right hand still clutched the candied hawthorn stick, and she was already crying aloud: "Demon brother, demon sister, please don't eat me! I'm small and have little meat—I won't taste good. If you must eat someone, eat my grandfather!"

Zhou Yixuan nearly fell to the ground. "Dead girl! I've raised you all these years for nothing! I never could tell before, but the moment life and death are at stake, you'd sell out your own grandfather?"

Xiaowan said tearfully, "Grandfather, don't blame me. After you die, at least I'll still bring you a stick of candied hawthorn now and then—"