Chapter 103 — The Fish Monster

He had not gone far when he heard someone faintly pursuing him from behind. Ming Li frowned and turned—and started. It was Zeng Shuyan who had come after him, and from the looks on Fa Cheng and the others' faces behind, they seemed somewhat taken aback as well.

Zeng Shuyan ran up before him, his back to Fa Cheng and the rest, gazed at Ming Li a moment, then suddenly broke into a smile. "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

Ming Li looked at him, at that smile—which seemed not to have changed in the least since they had met on Jietian Peak of Canglan Mountain, still so bright and open. After a moment his own gaze slowly softened, though his voice remained as calm as still water. "What is it?"

Zeng Shuyan clicked his tongue twice and shrugged. "I still count you as a friend, whatever you may think of me—that's beyond my control." Here he paused, then his eyes blinked several times rapidly and he said in a low voice, "Brother, let me hold this three-eyed spirit monkey of yours, all right?"

Ming Li was taken aback. At once the memory rose of Zeng Shuyan pestering him for Little Grey all those years ago, and an inexplicable warmth filled his heart. In truth he had grown up on Canglan Mountain, and he cherished every blade of grass and every tree on Dazhu Peak; how much more so Zeng Shuyan, one of the few friends he had.

Seeing that Ming Li did not answer, yet seemed neither scornful nor opposed, Zeng Shuyan was delighted. He had always been shrewd beyond measure, and in his heart he still held this friend who had entered the demon path in the highest regard. But he knew well how stubborn and unyielding Zhang Qingyue's nature was—for the sake of a promise made years ago, the man would sooner die than break it. One could well imagine how grievous the wound he had suffered over that affair must have been.

And so over the years, in his efforts to draw his friend back from the demon path, Zeng Shuyan had privately devised who knew how many schemes, only to arrive at a single conclusion—better slow than hasty.

Now his gaze fell upon Little Grey, sprawled on Ming Li's shoulder, and his eyes lit up at once. He laughed delightedly. "Little Grey, it's me! Do you still know me?"

Little Grey lay sprawled on Ming Li's shoulder, languid; for some reason its monkey face was flushed, rather like a man who had drunk too much wine. Only after Zeng Shuyan had called several times did it wearily open its eyes, glance at him once, give two impatient chirps of "zhi zhi," and close them again.

Zeng Shuyan, far from taking offense, looked as though he adored the creature beyond measure—the words "drooling with desire" were plainly written across his brow.

Ming Li looked at that expression, which seemed not to have changed in ten years, and suddenly sighed. "Forget it. It's tired today. If fate lets us meet again, we'll speak of it then."

Zeng Shuyan looked wistfully at Little Grey, nodded, then shifted his gaze back to Ming Li's face.

Ming Li said mildly, "If in days to come the righteous and the demonic stand opposed, and you and I face each other as enemies, strike as you will. As for..." He raised his eyes to Zeng Shuyan, and after a long pause said slowly, "Our paths differ, and we must be foes. But in my heart, I still count you a friend."

Zeng Shuyan was overjoyed, his face wreathed in smiles. He nodded vigorously and reached out to clap Ming Li hard on the shoulder, then thought better of it and drew his hand back. Then his eyes darted about, and as though something had occurred to him, a sly smile crept to the corner of his mouth. He reached into his robe, drew out an object—a rather battered book with a blue cover, bearing no title, so that one could not tell what book it was.

Ming Li frowned. Somehow the book looked a little familiar, but for the moment he could not recall where he had seen it.

Zeng Shuyan quietly pressed the book into Ming Li's hand and said with a low laugh, "We're brothers, aren't we? Ten years since we last met—a small gift for you."

Ming Li looked at Zeng Shuyan's expression—seven parts delight in the smile, and three parts some unaccountable lewdness—and frowned, glancing down at the book in his hand. He flipped it open at random...

"Ah!"

Even with Ming Li's present composure and self-possession, his body still gave a jolt, and he hurriedly shut the book. Its pages, he saw, were filled with words and pictures—pictures of naked men and women; it was that very book of spring paintings which, ten years ago, when they were still young, Zeng Shuyan had wanted to trade for Little Grey on Jietian Peak.

"You..." Ming Li was struck dumb for a moment and could not speak.

Zeng Shuyan glared at him. "If you don't want us both ruined, don't talk so loud."

Ming Li glared back, a strange turmoil in his heart. By rights he ought to have thought the fellow utterly absurd—yet somehow this pointless, foolish prank had suddenly brought him and Zeng Shuyan much closer, as though the old days had come back again.

Zeng Shuyan smiled at him and turned to go back. In this moment of quick wit there was in truth deep intent: to draw this friend back from the demon path, he must first make him acknowledge him as a friend. And now, at great risk of being laughed at by all present, he had done this foolish thing—and it had indeed left Ming Li speechless. No doubt when next they met, their friendship would be much better than it was now.

At this thought, a smile crept unbidden to his face.

When he had come back, Fa Cheng saw the smile and said, "Senior Brother Zeng, what has made you so happy?"

Zeng Shuyan, in excellent spirits, made a face at Fa Cheng and said, "The Buddha says: it cannot be spoken of, it cannot be spoken of!"

Fa Cheng smiled, and glanced at Ming Li in the distance. The man stood there holding a thick blue-covered book, his expression somewhat complicated, and one could not tell what he was thinking. Fa Cheng shook his head, and said to the others, "Our business here is finished. Let us go too. Whatever else there is can wait."

Zeng Shuyan nodded first; then Lin Jinghong and Lu Xueling nodded their silent agreement.

The four of them turned into beams of light in four colors, rose into the air, circled once in midair, and were gone.

Ming Li stood upon the vast trunk, and suddenly felt a kind of emptiness in his heart, as though he had lost something. His gaze fell upon the book in his hand; he raised it, as though to fling it away—but then gave a sudden bitter laugh, and in the end drew it back and tucked it into his robe.

Then he drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and rallied himself. "Little Grey, let's go."

This time Little Grey did not even open its eyes. It gave two vague chirps—"zhi zhi, zhi zhi"—and whether that counted as an answer, no one could say.

Ming Li smiled faintly, waved his right hand, and summoned his artifact, Soul Devourer. Turning into azure light, he flew off like lightning and left the giant tree behind.

Ming Li sped over the Death Marsh, riding the clouds and mist through the fog and miasma. Once out of the inner marsh, he paused in midair to get his bearings, then flew toward where the Hades King Sect's forces were posted in the outer marsh.

His speed was naturally very great, but the Death Marsh was vast indeed. After flying for nearly half an hour, all he could see before him was still a boundless sea of grass, a sweep of emerald green. Though he could not know how many deadly snares lay beneath it, seen from midair it was picturesque enough to lift the spirits.

Only as he neared the place where the Hades King Sect's forces were gathered did Ming Li suddenly frown. Faintly on the air there drifted a familiar smell of blood, carried on the wind.

Ming Li's expression changed. With a soft cry, the azure light beneath his feet blazed brighter, and he plunged down from the heights.