Chapter 86 — King's Village

White hairs sprout at the temples; the years flow by like water!

The Ghost King withdrew his gaze from the mirror-still surface of the water, sighed softly, turned his head, and smiled. "I have not looked in a mirror for a long while. Today I see a few more white hairs than before."

Behind him, Ming Li stood expressionless and said coolly, "You are imagining things."

At this moment, by a small lake within Mount Huqi, a stone pavilion had been built at the center of the water, connected to the shore by a single ancient wooden bridge. The Ghost King and Ming Li now stood within that lake-centered pavilion.

The Ghost King clasped his hands behind his back, his manner composed. "I hear that on this expedition to Mount Kongsang, though you subdued the Blood Refining Hall, the one remaining Wild Wolf Daoist who refused to submit was spared by you. Is there any truth to this?"

Ming Li glanced at the Ghost King. Seeing only a placid expression on his face, impossible to read, he slowly nodded. "It is true."

The Ghost King smiled and turned to gaze at the lake surface, green as jade. "In the past, when you led men to attack, you always killed to the last. Why today, before this man, did you show mercy?"

Ming Li was silent for a moment, then said, "Though the Blood Refining Hall is diminished now, eight hundred years ago it was a leading sect of its age, no ordinary minor school."

The Ghost King stood there, showing no reaction, impossible to tell whether he was satisfied with this explanation or not. After a long while, he said suddenly, "Speaking of it, the Blood-devouring Bead on your magic treasure was originally the relic of Old Man Blackheart. By that reckoning, you and the Blood Refining Hall may share a trace of kinship."

Ming Li slowly raised his eyes toward the Ghost King, and the Ghost King happened to turn at that moment and look back at him.

Their gazes collided in midair—Ming Li's cold and shadowed, the Ghost King's deep and calm.

The Ghost King smiled suddenly. "There are rumors lately that a rare treasure has appeared in the Death Marsh to the west. Have you heard?"

Ming Li nodded. "Yes, I have heard."

The Ghost King said leisurely, "I hear not only the righteous cultivators are rushing there in swarms, but experts from the Ten Thousand Poison Sect and the Soul-confusing School plan to intervene as well. As for the Longevity Hall, whose main hall sits near the Death Marsh, they will hardly yield the field." He paused, then said to Ming Li, "What do you make of it?"

Ming Li did not speak at once, and was silent for a long while. The Ghost King seemed to have especial patience with him, showing no sign of impatience. After a good while, Ming Li said slowly, "In this subjugation of the Blood Refining Hall, every faction within our sect that still possessed real strength, save the four great factions, has now been carved up and divided."

A faint smile rose at the corner of the Ghost King's mouth. He nodded. "Correct."

Ming Li said, "Within the Demonic Sect, factions have always stood like rival peaks, and the four great factions all dream of devouring one another. In the past, pressed by the righteous sects from without, they joined to repel the common enemy; today is hardly the same as those years. And now that the aligned powers within the sect are being settled one by one, the next step will be a fierce war among the four great factions. Only, who moves first remains to be seen."

The Ghost King clapped his hands lightly and smiled. "Good, good! Well said."

Ming Li glanced at him and said coolly, "For ten years you have not only transmitted to me the two volumes of the Heavenly Book, but passed on all you have learned in your life, your strategies and decisions, one by one. If I could not see even this, I would be betraying your painstaking care."

The Ghost King smiled at the young man before him as one might gaze upon a flawless, precious object crafted by one's own hands, joy tinged with a hidden thread of pride. "That is not entirely so," he said. "What I transmit to you must still be grasped by your own understanding. Your progress in these years has far exceeded my expectations. I thought that by your gifts you would need at least thirty years of cultivation; instead, in but ten, you have achieved mastery. Rare indeed, rare!"

Having received such praise from the Ghost King, Ming Li showed no smile on his face, as though to him this were nothing worth rejoicing over.

The Ghost King did not mind. Over the years, the man before him had gone from the Zhang Qingyue of old to the Ming Li of today; his former temperament had been turned upside down and inside out, and but for his features, almost nothing of that earlier man remained. He paused, then said, "So in your view, since the four great factions of our Holy Sect cannot avoid a bloodbath, do you think we should strike first—or wait quietly?"

This time Ming Li did not hesitate in the least. At once he said, "Strike first to seize the advantage!"

The Ghost King fixed his eyes on him. "Good! Then which faction would you deal with first?"

Ming Li said, "The Longevity Hall!"

The Ghost King frowned slightly, but there was already admiration in his eyes. "Why?"

Ming Li said, "At present the Ghost King Sect and the Ten Thousand Poison Sect are strongest, while the Soul-confusing School and the Longevity Hall are somewhat behind. The Soul-confusing School keeps a low profile, but the Longevity Hall's master, Yu Yangzi, though of high cultivation, is arrogant and conceited. He has always styled himself the leader of the righteous-demonic war at Mount Canglan in those years, believing that within the Demonic Sect he alone stands supreme. Such a fool—who else should we choose?"

The Ghost King smiled slightly. "Correct, well said. And if you were to command, how would you proceed?"

Ming Li considered briefly, then said, "This very affair is our chance. A rare treasure has appeared in the Death Marsh, and Yu Yangzi will surely regard it as already in his pocket, permitting no outsider to touch it. But the righteous cultivators are swarming there. We can wait for the Longevity Hall and the righteous forces to fight each other, and then, when both are broken and wounded, secretly join with the Ten Thousand Poison Sect and the Soul-confusing School to strike together. To such an errand of dropping stones on a man already in the well, they will surely not refuse. One battle like this and we are certain to succeed!"

The Ghost King looked at him and said nothing.

Ming Li slowly raised his head and looked toward the Ghost King. "What is it?" he said coolly.

The Ghost King seemed to have been gazing at him somewhat absently. After a moment he came back to himself, slowly drew back his gaze, and, as though sighing deep within his heart, said quietly, "Nothing. What you say is almost exactly what I had thought."

Ming Li fell silent.

The Ghost King gave a faint smile. "Rest another two days, then go to the Death Marsh." With that, he took from his robe a sealed letter and handed it to Ming Li. "The particulars of the arrangements I have written clearly in this letter. Once you reach the great marsh, every person of the Ghost King Sect is to answer to your command."

Ming Li slowly took the letter, tucked it into his robe, and was silent for a moment. He nodded to the Ghost King, then turned to go. But he had taken only a few steps when he suddenly heard the Ghost King's voice behind him: "One more thing..."

Ming Li stopped.

The Ghost King's voice drifted over. "When you speak with me, why do you still call our Holy Sect 'the Demonic Sect,' again and again?"

Ming Li was silent for a long while, then said coldly, "I have been in the sect ten years. Here it is day after day of campaigns and bloodshed, of deception and scheming, of mutual intrigue without end. How does it deserve the word 'holy'?"