Chapter 77 — Five

In but a moment Daoist Daoyan felt his head swim and his breath choke; yet his cultivation was of what towering height—higher even than the monk Puzhao in his day—and he at once forced his mind to steadiness. Fingers of his left hand joined like a blade, he struck several rapid points upon his right hand, which in those few moments had grown all but numb, tracing talismans in the air, and at once checked the upward advance of that dark qi.

Now Daoist Cangyan rushed to his side and steadied him firmly; catching sight of Daoyan's wound, he turned and bellowed at Zhang Qingyue, "Zhang Qingyue, you wretched spawn—you dared to secretly harm the sect leader!"

The assembly was aghast. Zhang Qingyue cried out in shock, "No—it wasn't me—"

Daoist Daoyan, thronged about by the crowd, had by now regained some color; but so fierce was the Seven-Tailed Centipede's venom that even upon his face a faint dark qi could be seen, thin but undispersed. Yet for all that his senses remained clear, and drawing a deep breath he said, "Seize this wretched spawn at once and interrogate him thoroughly."

Daoist Cangyan turned. "Rest easy, senior brother—I am here."

Daoist Daoyan gasped for breath, but his heart was half eased; he nodded, and turning to look at him was about to say, "Then—"

His voice suddenly broke off. The face of Daoist Cangyan before his eyes had in an instant changed from an anxious countenance to one of utter savagery. And almost in that same instant, something went cold at Daoyan's belly, and a sharp agony stabbed through him; his body convulsed, and the whole essence of his cultivation—which he had shifted to his right hand to hold the poison in check—suddenly scattered.

"Ah!"

With a great roar, Daoist Daoyan swept his left hand down in a reverse slash; Daoist Cangyan's left hand rose at once to meet it. The two collided, and Cangyan's body was violently shaken and sent flying backward, landing at the gate of the Jade Balance Hall. After a moment a streak of blood slowly trickled from the corner of his mouth—yet his expression was a cold sneer.

In his right hand he gripped a short sword, translucent as water—at a glance, plainly no common thing. And now the blade was scored with blood, fresh crimson blood that slowly dripped, drop by drop, from the edge onto the gray bricks of the great hall.

The crowd that had been in such turmoil a moment before suddenly fell still—still as death.

The front of Daoist Daoyan's dark green robes had in an instant turned a deeper shade, and his whole face had gone deathly pale; yet the astonishment upon his features far outstripped the pain of his body.

"You—what have you done?" he rasped at Daoist Cangyan, who stood at the hall's entrance, voicing the question in every heart. Even Qi Hao and Lin Jinghong of the Longfeng Peak could scarcely believe their eyes, every mouth agape, staring at the man who had once been among the most powerful on all Canglan Mountain.

"I?" Daoist Cangyan seemed suddenly to have become another man entirely, and burst into wild laughter. "I was striking you down in secret! Could you not see it?" With that he beckoned, and the Seven-Tailed Centipede in midair flew to him at once, vanishing in a flash into his sleeve.

Qi Hao could hold back no longer, and cried out, his voice full of bewilderment and horror, "Master—are you, are you mad?"

Daoist Cangyan glanced at him, then his gaze fell upon Lin Jinghong, who stood beside Qi Hao with much the same expression, and upon the other Longfeng Peak disciples, and indeed upon the disciples of every other branch of the Canglan Sect—all gazing at him as at a madman, in utter disbelief.

"Hahaha—mad? Yes! I have long been mad!" Daoist Cangyan laughed wildly at the heavens, a touch of frenzy in his manner. "A hundred years ago, here in this very Jade Balance Hall, when I saw what became of Senior Brother Wan Jiangu—I was already mad!"

"Master!" Qi Hao and Lin Jinghong of Longfeng Peak now had tears in their voices. But behind them, the presiding elders of the Canglan Sect who had gathered round Daoist Daoyan suddenly stiffened.

Wan Jiangu—that name, like something out of a nightmare, pressed down upon the Canglan Sect with its dense, dark shadow.

The corner of Daoist Daoyan's eye twitched. That name, which for a hundred years no one had dared utter in his presence, seemed to have stung him deeply. Xiao Yichen was supporting him, yet he was startled to feel the wounded body of Daoyan suddenly give a violent shudder—and even through the cloth he could sense it: the flame that had abruptly kindled within his master's body was fierce enough to sear!

Daoist Cangyan stood there in his mad frenzy, as though the foul breath pent up in his heart for all these years had finally found release; and for a time no one stepped forward to seize the murderer who had struck down the supreme leader of the Canglan Sect.

He pointed at Daoist Daoyan, then pointed at the images of the Three Pure Ones in the shadows behind the crowd, and cried aloud, "You—all of you—" his finger swept across Tian Buhui, Shui Yue, Zeng Shuchang, Shang Zhengliang and the other presiding elders of Qingyun—"answer me in good conscience! Whose seat is this, truly? Senior Brother Wan's of old—or his?"

No one answered. The younger disciples knew not what to do; but Tian Buhui and the others stood livid and silent.

Through the great hall echoed only Daoist Cangyan's maddened voice: "What—have you no words now? Does your conscience prick you? Hahaha—yes! Yes! Who among you does not know in his heart how it ought to be? And yet—who is it that sits in this seat today?"

Shui Yue, her face ashen, looked upon Cangsong—so unlike his usual self—and said slowly, "Brother Cangsong, more than a hundred years have passed in this matter. Why cling to it so?"

"Bah!" Daoist Cangyan now cared nothing for his own station; he spat viciously, a look of contempt on his face, and sneered, "A hundred years? Yes! I have endured a hundred years, and only today have I had the chance to right the wrong done to Senior Brother Wan. In those years, beneath the Canglan Sect, in the wild marches—you, you, and you!"

His finger stabbed from one to the next, pointing in turn at Tian Buhui, Zeng Shuchang, and Shang Zhengliang, and he sneered, "These hundred years you have sat comfortably in your seats—do you still remember how Senior Brother Wan once cast all caution aside to save our lives? Do you still remember who it was that shared his cultivation insights with us without stint, and brought our powers greatly forward? And you—"

He pointed abruptly at Shui Yue and said coldly, "Just now you dared call me obsessed? Heh—heh—in those years, who did not know you pined for Senior Brother Wan in secret? And he later saved you and loved you—yet I never thought you would stand by and watch him die, and now come to mock me!"

Shui Yue's face went stark white!

"And you, Tian Buhui!" As though he would vent every ounce of grievance in his heart, Daoist Cangyan laughed wildly and pointed at Tian Buhui. "Speak for yourself—how did Senior Brother Wan treat you, and how did you repay him?"

Tian Buhui stood livid, his hands clenched tight into fists; beside him his wife Su Wan was no less pale. Yet neither of them spoke a word, letting Daoist Cangyan laugh and rage and accuse.

"In those days you were nothing but an ordinary, wooden disciple beneath Dazhu Peak—even your master and senior brothers looked down on you. But when Senior Brother Wan met you, he saw with his discerning eye that you were a vessel worth shaping, and from then on cultivated you with all care; not only did he share his own cultivation insights with you, he strove with all his might to recommend you into the company of five for the wild marches. Only thus did you rise to become a man of prominence in the Canglan Sect, and only thus did you come to sit in the seat you hold today. Is what I say true or not?"