Chapter 61 — Old Acquaintances

The old man turned his head. The moment Zhang Qingyue saw his face, he was taken aback. He had imagined that Shitou's sect, called the "Vajra Sect," and his master, named the "Venerable Great Strength," must surely mean a giant of incomparable might. Instead, before him stood this rather thin and small old man, and for a moment he truly could not recover his wits.

Shitou, clearly, had not thought so much of it. He chuckled and said: "Brother Zhang, aren't you going to pay your respects to my master?"

Only then did Zhang Qingyue come to his senses. He hurriedly made his salutation and said: "Senior, this disciple is Zhang Qingyue. I have long heard of your great name."

The old man gave a cold snort and said mildly: "Enough." Then he turned back and said to Facheng: "So, then—your master, the Venerable Pucheng, has been in seclusion meditating on Chan and has still not come out?"

Facheng smiled and said: "Indeed. Although my honored master is the abbot of our temple, for a long time now it has been I who assist my uncle-master Pukong in managing worldly affairs. This time, with the demonic cult rising again, my uncle-master Pukong originally intended to come as well, but the temple's affairs are so numerous and tangled that in the end I was sent, to do what little I could."

The Venerable Great Strength nodded and said: "With you here, that is enough. But before I came, I had thought that although your masters, the two divine monks Pucheng and Pukong, would not come, your fourth uncle-master Pufang has always hated the demonic cult bitterly, and would surely come. Why then..."

Seeing the Venerable Great Strength's puzzled gaze turn toward him, Facheng sighed faintly and said: "Senior, you are unaware—since five years ago, when my third uncle-master, the divine monk Puzhao, suddenly passed away..."

Zhang Qingyue's heart gave a violent lurch.

And it was at that very moment that Facheng's gaze, whether by design or not, glanced in his direction, then shifted away again, as he continued: "My uncle-master Pufang and my uncle-master Puzhao were the closest of friends. Ever since then, he has devoted himself quietly in the temple to studying the Buddhist scriptures, and no longer goes out."

The Venerable Great Strength let out an "Ah," full of feeling.

Facheng smiled and said: "But this is not necessarily a bad thing."

The Venerable Great Strength chuckled and said: "True, true. You divine monks must of course put your own perfect merit first—unlike this old fellow, who has no affinity with the Buddha and so runs about east and west all day long."

Facheng laughed and said: "Senior jests. You have deep ties with our Fanyin Temple—my honored master and my uncle-master Pukong both made a point of mentioning this before I came. Come, please, senior, sit inside."

The Venerable Great Strength made a few polite demurrals, then went in with him.

Zhang Qingyue watched the two of them go inside. Suddenly he felt something and turned to look aside, only to find Shitou tugging at him and saying in a low voice: "Did you notice? It seems this young Facheng is actually the leader of this bunch of monks from the Fanyin Temple!"

Zhang Qingyue nodded. In these past days he had come into contact with these orthodox cultivators daily and had seen many of the masters of the Fanyin Temple. He too had noticed that although Facheng was young, among the monks of the "Fa" generation who had come to Liubo Mountain this time, Facheng's bearing stood out strikingly, and he faintly had the air of one who leads. It was mostly he who came forward to receive guests and speak, while the older monks beside him made no sound at all. It seemed Facheng was an outstanding figure whom the Fanyin Temple was cultivating with great effort.

Only, in his heart at this moment, he was still thinking of just now, of that glance Facheng had suddenly cast his way when speaking of Puzhao. So he did not hear what Shitou was muttering beside him, only the last of it: "...I don't see anything so remarkable about him. He even said it wrong."

Zhang Qingyue started and asked: "What did you say?"

Shitou looked left and right, then said in a low voice: "I remember hearing people say before that when a Buddhist cultivator's merit is complete and he dies a good death, it should be called 'parinirvana.' Just now he went and said 'passed away'—it sounds uncomfortable, as if the divine monk Puzhao had... Eh, Brother Zhang, why has your face suddenly turned so ugly?"

Zhang Qingyue's thoughts were in turmoil. He forced a smile and nodded to Shitou, then walked back to where the Canglan Sect was lodged, leaving Shitou standing there, unable to make head or tail of it for a long while.

In the blink of an eye, Zhang Qingyue had been on Liubo Mountain for half a month. During this time, the orthodox cultivators and the demonic cult remained locked in confrontation. The two sides often encountered each other by day, and from time to time there were clashes of magic. But what puzzled the orthodox cultivators was that the demonic cult seemed unwilling to fight to the finish; often after several exchanges they would feint and flee.

In the past it had been said that the demonic cult was gathering in this desolate place, and most likely they were plotting some vicious scheme to bring calamity to the world—which was why the orthodox cultivators had come to eradicate the demons. But now, seeing them, it did not seem so.

If they meant to be enemies of the orthodox, they should come out and fight a decisive battle; if they had heard that two figures of the Canglan Sect's leadership had come and feared their own strength insufficient, then they should take the initiative to withdraw.

Yet the demonic cult would neither fight nor withdraw. Liubo Mountain was vast in terrain; in the air one was an obvious target, but to go deep and seek out the demons' lair was truly no easy matter. And so things dragged on, and the days stretched out. The orthodox cultivators speculated one after another: what did these demonic remnants want on this utterly desolate island?

These past days, Zhang Qingyue had also been following his master and senior brothers in searching Liubo Mountain for the demonic cult.

But privately, he had another worry—the fear that if he ran into Bili, what then?

Yet strange to say, though Bili had clearly also come to this island of Liubo Mountain, since that stormy night she had not appeared again. It was the other members of the demonic cult—including the Elder Nian and the Wild Wolf Daoist, whom Zhang Qingyue and Lu Xueqi and the others knew—who appeared with great frequency. From their manner, it seemed they were searching for something.

Daoist Cangyan and Tian Buhui were both cultivators of several hundred years, yet even they found this matter somewhat thorny. One evening, the two of them called together the people of the Fanyin Temple and the Fenxia Valley to confer.

The one representing the Fanyin Temple was, naturally, Facheng; and the one who came from the Fenxia Valley was, unexpectedly, also an acquaintance—Li Xun. Both of them appeared to be outstanding figures of the younger generation, yet before Daoist Cangyan and Tian Buhui their manner was exceedingly respectful.

After the salutations, Daoist Cangyan said mildly: "My two martial nephews, in this expedition of our orthodox sects to eradicate the demons, there is much for which we must rely on you both. I thank you here in advance."

Facheng and Li Xun bowed at the same time and said: "We would not dare. Should there be any need, please, Uncle-Master Cangsong, simply give the order."

Tian Buhui waved his hand, bade the two of them sit first, and said: "There is no need for us to waste words. To this day, we have been on this desolate island in the East Sea for half a month. It is true enough that demonic remnants are here, but their movements are secretive, and we cannot guess their purpose. What do my two nephews think?"