Chapter 43 — The Blooddrop Cave

Zhang Qingyue stared blankly as the secret cave opened. His heart beat faster; there was excitement in him, and fear—but deep down, in a place he would not readily admit even to himself, there was also curiosity.

This place, held sacred by the demon cult for eight hundred years—what on earth might lie within?

Bili walked slowly up out of the water and came to stand beside him, her eyes rippling with light, brimming with amusement. Zhang Qingyue glanced at her: skin like snow, beauty beyond compare, glistening droplets sliding gently down her cheeks and falling—almost as though they fell upon his heart.

He gave a start and dared not look again; he turned his head, lowered his voice, and said, "Congratulations."

Bili seemed to pause for a moment, but the smile in her eyes did not diminish in the least, and her voice held a note of tenderness. "That was all your keen eye." Zhang Qingyue's mouth felt somehow dry, his face warm with embarrassment; he took a step aside, instinctively putting a little distance between himself and this woman. "Then aren't you going in to take a look?" Bili looked at him and smiled suddenly. "You seem a little afraid of me?"

Zhang Qingyue shook his head as vigorously as a rattle-drum. "No, no…"

Bili studied him for a while, then nodded, the smile still lingering on her face. "Then let's go in together!"

Zhang Qingyue was startled; he hesitated. "No—that isn't right. This is your demon cult's place. You'd better go by yourself…" Bili gave a cold snort. "And if there is a way out inside, will you refuse to go in too?"

Zhang Qingyue was stumped; he scratched his head. "Well… I suppose you're right. Then—then let's go!"

Bili smiled and nodded. She stepped back into the water, passed through the falling curtain, and walked into the cave. Zhang Qingyue hesitated a moment, then at last followed.

It was a deep, dark tunnel. The stone walls along its sides bore far fewer of the glowing things than the outer passages; though the way could still just be made out, it was very dim.

Zhang Qingyue and Bili advanced with great care. After all, this was the first time in eight hundred years that anyone had come here; who knew whether those old monsters and old relics of the Refining Blood Hall had left behind some especially nasty ward or seal?

The way was peaceful enough, and nothing unexpected occurred. It was only that the passage twisted a great deal, deep and long, and climbed gradually; by Zhang Qingyue's rough reckoning, he and Bili must by now be at the very heart of the mountain.

As he was pondering this, Bili, walking ahead of him, suddenly stopped. "We're here," she said softly.

Zhang Qingyue's heart skipped. He looked ahead and saw, at the end of the tunnel, a thread of bright light shining through; there, faintly visible, lay a great stone chamber. The two exchanged a glance. Bili went first, stepping toward it.

As they drew nearer, they made out the situation of the chamber. It was circular in shape, with the tunnel opening into its midst. And on the far side, another passage actually stretched inward—it seemed this was not the only end of the way.

On the left side of the chamber stood two enormous stone statues. One had kindly brows and gentle eyes, standing with a smile, its garments carved as though stirred by the wind, so lifelike that it rather resembled Guanyin, bodhisattva of the Buddhist faith.

The other was of an utterly different aspect: hideous and ferocious, black-faced and horned, with eight arms and four heads, and even a trickle of blood carved at the corner of its mouth, enough to make one shudder at the sight.

Before the two statues stood a stone table, with an incense burner upon it and several bundles of incense and candles beside it, all thick with dust—by the look of it, no incense had burned here in eight hundred years.

At the other end of the chamber there were only a few rush mats, tossed carelessly on the ground, and nothing else.

Zhang Qingyue took this in, and as he was wondering at it, he saw Bili's expression turn solemn. She went forward, picked up one of the mats, shook the dust from it, and laid it before the stone table beneath the statues. Then she took up the incense and candles from the table, struck a light with the flint from her robes, lit them, and set them in the burner. She walked back to the mat and knelt, her face grave.

In the stone chamber, thin smoke rose slowly; she lay prostrate on the ground.

Zhang Qingyue stood behind her and heard her voice echo through the chamber.

"Holy Mother of the Hidden and the Bright, Heaven-Slaying Ming King, your disciple of the forty-third generation of the Holy Cult, Bili, reverently pays homage. The Holy Cult has met with calamity and has long been in decline; countless followers, with livers and gall laid bare, have pressed forward one after another to revive it. I pray only that the Holy Mother and the Ming King look with pity upon all living things, bestow blessings upon me, raise up the Holy Cult once more, deliver all beings, and together ascend to the deathless, blissful realm of eternal joy!"

Zhang Qingyue thought for a moment, and understanding came. These two statues must be the wicked gods worshiped by the demon cult. He could not suppress a cold laugh; he turned his head away and did not look at them again.