Chapter 53 — The Strange Beast

Those two beams of light were, of course, Shitou and Bili. Seeing that they had caught up with the Three-Tailed Demon Fox, their hearts leaped with joy—though Bili, more cautious, noticed that Zhang Qingyue was nowhere in sight, and her heart sank with worry. But before the two of them could steady themselves, in response to the demon fox's actions, a fierce wind suddenly rose within the great stone cave, and another enormous tentacle burst forth, lashing at them with a thunderous crash.

Trapped in the darkness, Zhang Qingyue was dragged ever deeper by the tentacle. Along the way he was battered against the stone walls of the cave, and it seemed to twist through several turns. Though he was not left broken and bleeding, he was inevitably covered in dust and grime—though in a place where he could not see his hand before his face, no one could see it anyway.

How much deeper he was dragged, he could not tell. He only felt the stench growing thicker and thicker, while all around was pitch-black, without a glimmer of light, so that he could make out nothing of his surroundings. Fortunately, though the giant tentacle still bound him tight, the Three-Tailed Demon Fox seemed to have given an order not to harm him for the moment, and the tentacle did not tighten further, so Zhang Qingyue was granted a brief chance to catch his breath.

At last the giant tentacle came to a stop. In a pitch-black place it ceased to move, yet still held Zhang Qingyue fast.

Zhang Qingyue gasped for breath, his soul still shaken.

Darkness loomed like a mountain before him, endless and immeasurable.

Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt that ahead of him, deep in that darkness, there might well be an inconceivable monster of immense size crouching there. At the thought, a chill ran from head to foot through his entire body.

In this ancient cave, it seemed as though no light had penetrated since the beginning of time—black as ink. Yet this unknown world instilled in him the most ancient and most profound of fears.

The massive tentacle coiled around his body seemed to remind him at every moment of what kind of inconceivable creature he now faced.

Time seemed to congeal.

From somewhere in the distance came faint sounds of fighting and great crashes—low and muffled, yet somehow familiar.

Suddenly, deep in the darkness, something seemed to stir uneasily. Ripples of movement spread through the black. Zhang Qingyue could not see, but a thousand thoughts raced through his mind—was this enormous monster's body here, and had it extended another tentacle to fight Bili and the others outside the cave?

But that thought did not last long. Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt that the tentacle which had ceased to exert force was now, as if startled by something or for some other reason, beginning to tighten again. Though it did so slowly, given the tentacle's immensity, the crushing force was truly like mountains toppling and seas overturning.

Zhang Qingyue's vision went black; agony seized his whole body. He gave a great cry and, regardless of all else, desperately sustained himself with his own Taiji Mystic Clarity Way—but the tentacle was like a vengeful ghost, its force irresistible, and he could not hold out.

He felt his ribs creaking, his blood surging. Zhang Qingyue could hold back no longer; in desperation he resorted to any remedy he could think of, and fiercely set in motion the other half of his secret cultivation—the Buddhist true art 'Great Brahma Prajna,' passed down from the holy monk Puzhao of the Brahma Sound Temple—hoping to withstand it a little longer. But no sooner had he set it in motion than this supreme Buddhist true art and the Canglan Sect's Daoist wondrous art, utterly different in their methods of cultivation and even more so in their manner of channeling qi, immediately began to churn and repel each other within his body like a raging sea. In an instant, every meridian in his body was pierced with agony as if by needles.

At the same time, the giant tentacle outside pressed down without cease, as though it would crack his very bones. Alone in the darkness, at a loss, Zhang Qingyue's consciousness began to blur under the tremendous pressure.

And then, at this moment on the very threshold of life and death, passages of text suddenly flashed through his mind:

"...The heavenly image has no form; the Way is praised yet nameless. Therefore it is said: no self, no other, no beings, no lifespan—and thus one reaches the light. Hold to the one true Way, and within, realize one's own nature; heaven and earth take the root as their heart..."

These words seemed to light up from the depths of his being, echoing in his mind. This was the general outline from the first volume of the 'Book of Heaven,' which had once baffled him utterly—how could the Buddhist and Daoist methods of cultivation, fundamentally so different, ever be merged into one?

Yet at this very moment, in this place of extremity, his body on the verge of bursting, in a state of utmost suffering, some part of his mind, for reasons he could not fathom, began to grow clear—and heedless of the piercing pain, only those words deeply carved into his mind echoed on:

"...

Therefore when movement rests within the earth, the heart of heaven and earth is revealed.

Therefore there is neither substance nor void.

Therefore heaven and earth follow nature, doing nothing and creating nothing.

Therefore when things are not all present, they cannot be complete!

..."

The Dark Iron Staff, which he had held all this while but which had lost its luster, now suddenly began to glow once more.

A faint, dark-blue radiance slowly rose.

A cold, icy sensation coursed through his body.

Zhang Qingyue could see nothing in the darkness, yet his eyes were wide open, and his whole mind echoed with a single line: "Therefore when things are not all present, they cannot be complete! ... Therefore when things are not all present, they cannot be complete! ... Therefore when things are not all present, they cannot be complete! ..."

"Ah!"

He lifted his head, toward the heavens, and screamed—but his voice had gone hoarse.

"Therefore when things are not all present, they cannot be complete!"

The two qi of Great Brahma Prajna and the Taiji Mystic Clarity Way, which had been warring within him, suddenly surged like a mighty river pouring into the sea. After a violent collision, they burst forth from his right arm and were driven, raw and unyielding, into the black Dark Iron Staff.

In an instant the Dark Iron Staff blazed with light. Beneath its dark-blue halo, the body of the staff seemed to have been stimulated by something, and every vein and fiber on it grew clear, down to the last hair. Even those blood threads seemed infused with fresh vitality, faintly pulsing and throbbing, as though dark-red, hidden, uncanny blood flowed within them.

"Creak—creak—creak—creak—creak..."

Along with the strange phenomena of the Dark Iron Staff, peculiar sounds broke out all over Zhang Qingyue's body—not the sound of bones snapping, but something like a violent heartbeat, like boiling blood, like skin splitting open from within—and yet his body showed no abnormality at all!

Unwittingly, Zhang Qingyue regained his senses. He looked around, and before he could even grasp what changes had taken place in his body, he realized he was still bound by the giant tentacle—but now the Dark Iron Staff, after his moment of sudden enlightenment had forced the true arts of Buddhism and Daoism into it, radiated a light subtly different from before. Within the dark-blue glow there faintly drifted threads of golden light, and even those swaying, faint red traces of blood—ferocious, fearsome, and strangely vivid.