Chapter 78 — Six

The righteous cultivators—including Pucheng and Pukong of the Fanyin Temple, who had been ambushed—were struck dumb with shock. Only after a long while did Daoist Daoyan manage to steady himself; pointing at Shangguan Lue, he said, "You—what are you doing? Has the Fenxia Valley too thrown in its lot with the Demonic Cult?"

Shangguan Lue stood beside the four Demonic Cult masters and Daoist Cangyan, exchanging glances with them all, then suddenly burst into loud laughter, his manner utterly insolent and full of smug triumph.

The Dark King laughed and said to Daoist Daoyan, "Who ever told you these were men of the Fenxia Valley?"

Daoist Daoyan opened his mouth to speak, then suddenly fell silent. Slowly he turned his head and fixed his eyes upon Daoist Cangyan; his face went ghastly pale, and he said, "Good. Very good. You have done well indeed—a fine job of pulling the wool over our eyes!"

Daoist Cangyan gave a cold, malicious chuckle, his whole face alight with triumph. "And all thanks to the Dark King's masterful scheming! No sooner had he heard that the bald donkeys of the Fanyin Temple had arrived uninvited this day to ruin our great plan than he thought at once to send masters disguised as Fenxia Valley disciples up the mountain—picking a few who seldom walk the world, introduced by me. Heh heh—and it worked like a charm!"

Daoist Daoyan's body swayed. He turned to look, and saw that in this sudden Demonic Cult assault, the blow had fallen chiefly upon the monks of the Fanyin Temple—nine out of ten struck down or gravely wounded. Master Pucheng in particular, his face like white paper, could no longer even stand; supported by his disciple Facheng, he slowly sank to the ground, and the whole of his back was a bloody, mangled ruin. The others were scarcely better off, and even among the Canglan Sect, five or six elders had been wounded.

Daoist Daoyan's heart churned, and it sank within him by degrees. With a bitter laugh he said, "Formidable, formidable. A fine waste these many years of my life—I never questioned why Brother Shangguan Lue of the Fenxia Valley, who has always stood guard at the Xuanhuo Altar and never stepped half a pace beyond the Fenxia Valley, should appear before me!"

The Dark King looked at him and shook his head with a smile. "It is not that you failed to think of that. It is that you never thought your junior brother Cangsong would betray you."

Daoist Daoyan gave another bitter laugh.

Silence fell abruptly over the Yuheng Hall. The righteous cultivators looked at one another; by now anyone could see that the Demonic Cult side held an overwhelming advantage. Though the Canglan Sect still had many elders and masters here, the Demonic Cult had only more. Of the Fanyin Temple monks, perhaps no more than half could still fight, and among those only Pukong and Facheng had escaped injury through their quick wits.

Pukong in particular seemed suddenly a different man, a golden alms bowl cupped in his hands that shot forth golden light on every side, making him well-nigh a fierce deity. Before him lay a bloody pulp—a Demonic Cult master who had tried to strike him down by stealth, only to be pounded to mincemeat by Pukong's treasure, the "Stupa Golden Bowl."

But what mattered most was this: the two great masters long honored together as the pillars of the righteous path under Heaven—Daoist Daoyan and Master Pucheng—had been gravely wounded at the same moment. Even now Master Pucheng's face was like white paper, and though Daoist Daoyan fared somewhat better, by any measure he looked like a spent arrow.

Could it truly be that the righteous path under Heaven had run out its allotted span?

That question pressed upon the hearts of the righteous like the heaviest of stones.

By contrast, every soul among the Demonic Cult was wild with elation. For a hundred years and more they had been driven out of the Central Plains, penned up in the wild marches; now that they had at last won their breath and raised their brows, how could their spirits not soar?

Yuyang Zi felt that in presiding over this great undertaking, the Holy Cult had crushed the two colossal righteous sects in a single stroke; hereafter his standing within the Holy Cult would surely tower above all others. Perhaps from this very day he might raise the Changsheng Hall to the eminence the Lianxue Hall had known eight hundred years before under the Black-Hearted Elder.

At that thought, Yuyang Zi swelled with even greater complacency, and with insolent laughter he said to Daoist Daoyan, "Old thief Daoyan, hand over at once your sect's guardian treasure, the Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword, and then submit yourself beneath the banner of our Holy Cult—and I shall spare your lives! Hahaha!"

The dozens of Demonic Cult masters behind him roared with laughter together, as though the century of pent-up fury could at last be vented fully this day.

And in the distance, from the Jietian Peak came unbroken the cries of alarm from the Qingyun disciples locked in slaughter there, as though they too supplied a dismal prelude to the fate now awaiting the Canglan Sect.

Yet upon Daoist Daoyan's ashen face there was a look of unyielding resolve. He scoffed at Yuyang Zi and said coldly, "Even if the Canglan Sect be destroyed at your hands this day, you shall never see us bend the knee and surrender."

So saying, he retreated several paces to stand among the ranks of the Canglan Sect. Tian Buhui, Shang Zhengliang, and the other elders at once gathered around him, and his prized disciple Xiao Yichen too took hold of him, saying in a low, anxious voice, "Master, your body—"

Daoist Daoyan gave a grunt and said urgently, "Calamity is at our brows. Junior brother Tian, junior brother Shang, junior brother Zeng, junior brother Tianyun—you four hold out here a while. Junior sister Shuiyue, take a few of the second-generation disciples and get the friends of the Fanyin Temple away first. They were wounded in aid of my Qingyun; we must not let them suffer further harm."

All those he had charged nodded at once in assent, and Tian Buhui added, "Senior brother sect master, we shall hold them off here. You are gravely wounded—go quickly. While there is green on the hills, another day—"

He broke off abruptly, but the meaning of his words was plain to all. Zeng Shuchang and several other elders nodded in agreement, but Daoist Daoyan gave a bitter laugh and said, "The foundations of our forebears—would you have me abandon them? I, Daoyan, would sooner die than be a traitor for all ages!"

Tian Buhui and the others fell silent. Daoist Daoyan glanced at the Demonic Cult, who were by now stirring restlessly, and suddenly seemed to have resolved upon some course; in a low voice he said, "Matters have come to this—there is no way but to defy the founder's prohibitions and use that final killing measure!"

The others, including most of the elders, were taken aback.

Daoist Daoyan drew a deep breath and said, "There is no time to spare. I shall go and summon forth the Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword. As for you—" He looked around at them all, then suddenly lowered his voice. "Whatever you may think of me in your hearts, matters have come to this—take care, all of you!"

Tian Buhui and the others were moved, and were about to say something more, when suddenly came a gale of wild laughter, a flash of unearthly light from treasures, and the Demonic Cult at last struck.

In an instant, the Yuheng Hall—solemn and august but a moment before—was filled with flying treasures and crisscrossing beams of unnatural light, while thunderous crashes rang unceasingly upon the ear.

In the midst of the chaos, while the elders and masters of the Canglan Sect held off the furious assault of the Demonic Cult, Shuiyue led the young disciples in bearing the gravely wounded masters of the Fanyin Temple into the rear hall. Daoist Daoyan too walked backward, but his steps were faintly unsteady, stumbling now and again.