Chapter 35 — The Ancient Grotto

The others were silent. [Facheng] nodded. "Just so. But this cave is perilous and unpredictable; you had best have your immortal artifacts ready, against all contingencies."

With life and death at stake, none dared be negligent. They all took their treasures in hand. When [Li Xun], [Yan Fei], and the two monks of the Fanyin Temple saw [Zhang Qingyue] produce a black, unremarkable rod of dark iron, they all started and stared in astonishment. [Zhang Qingyue] flushed red with embarrassment — but just then [Lu Xueqi], beneath the blue radiance of her Heavenly Spin, said coldly, "Let us go," and walked first toward the pitch-black cave. The others hurried after, and so he was spared.

Just before they reached the cave mouth, when that cold wind was growing ever more chill, [Facheng] seemed — whether by design or not — to draw near [Zhang Qingyue]. [Zhang Qingyue] noticed and smiled at him; [Facheng] smiled back and said in a low voice, "Junior Brother [Zhang], the way ahead is dangerous. Stay behind me."

[Zhang Qingyue] was taken aback, but [Facheng] had already stepped into the darkness. There was no time to think further; seeing the others all enter the cave, he hurried in after them.

He had scarce stepped inside and taken a few paces when [Zhang Qingyue] felt the ground give way beneath him and his whole body sink downward. He was badly startled, but mercifully he sank only to the ankle and stopped. By now they were all in darkness, though each had raised their treasures and artifacts, which shed rays of glowing light. [Zhang Qingyue] looked down at his feet and his face turned bitter at once: what he stood on was a deep layer of bat droppings. Not only was the stench foul, but his feet were sunk in it — a misery past describing. He looked up and ahead, and saw that most of the others wore much the same expression, especially the two women, [Lu Xueqi] and [Yan Fei] of the Fenxia Valley, whose brows were tightly knitted and faces pale.

[Zhang Qingyue] shook his head and forced himself to steady his mind. Once the party had grown used to the surroundings, they pressed on inward, and now that rustling, like the whispers of demons, grew louder as well — as though far away, and yet as though right beside them, all around, before and behind.

They went on another three or four zhang, when [Qi Hao] at the front suddenly said in a low voice, "Wait!"

Everyone stopped at once. [Qi Hao]'s immortal sword, Frost, rose slowly, its light gradually brightening, and when it had lit up no small part of the cave ahead, everyone held their breath.

It was an enormous cavern, its roof soaring high above the floor. In the white light of the Frost sword, they saw to their shock that the roof of the cave was densely covered with countless black bats hanging upside down, so thick that the rock of the cavern was all but invisible. And that rustling sound was made by these beasts as they rubbed against one another and gave their low cries.

In the darkness, the bats touched by the white light seemed to sense unease; one by one they stirred, but they did not take flight. Instead they crawled on their claws over the rock, moving toward the darkness, some simply clutching at their fellows. Those fanged, gaping maws looked all the more terrible in the dark, enough to make the heart quail.

No one dared breathe. After a moment they all realized that, conspicuous as their light was in the surrounding blackness, the bats seemed indeed not to stir, and would not attack. Seeing this, they breathed a little easier, and [Facheng] said in a low voice, "At least this humble monk's judgment was not wrong. Let us press on, everyone."

They turned and went deeper into that dreadful ancient grotto, toward the deeper darkness beyond. With every step, the bat droppings underfoot grew thicker, and under the white light of the Frost sword the bats on the roof seemed endless, growing more and more numerous — sharp fangs and jagged teeth, murmuring low cries, whistling all around them. Had these eight not all possessed the orthodox immortal arts and firmness of will, any ordinary person would have gone mad.

How long they walked thus, [Zhang Qingyue] could not tell. He was in the middle of the party, and [Facheng] kept always ahead of him. Seeing that even the young monk's moon-white robe was now stained with a few spots of filth, [Zhang Qingyue] suddenly thought of [Puzhao].

That person, deep in his memories — had he come from the same place as this monk before him?

Ahead, [Qi Hao] suddenly gave a faint cry: "Ah!"

Before [Zhang Qingyue] could make sense of it, he felt something strange beneath his feet — as though he had stepped onto hard ground.