Chapter 107 — The Demon Formation

Lü Shun's face darkened further. Gritting his teeth, he poured light into his immortal sword until it blazed, and as one with the blade charged into the hall; in a moment the hall was bright. But just as his figure vanished into the hall, from one side of its broken walls two dark shadows sped swiftly away from the hall into the shadows nearby, and were seen no more.

After a while, Lü Shun could be heard ransacking the hall, thumping and clattering for quite some time, but at last he came dejectedly out, clearly having found nothing. He stood on the steps, his face shifting between dark and fair, and after a long while stamped his foot and sighed, "Enough, enough."

Shaking his head without cease, he rose on his sword and flew south, vanishing in a moment.

The ancient temple fell silent at once, and the insects, startled into silence by Lü Shun, began chirping again; the cold moon and clear wind—once more a scene of desolation.

But long after Lü Shun had disappeared, the temple seemed to have lost all life, and still nothing stirred. After another moment, a sharp whistle suddenly split the air, and a red sword-glow came plunging down from the high clouds, alighting with incredible speed in the temple courtyard; it wavered a few times, and revealed Lü Shun's figure.

This return after departing was in fact a stratagem of the empty city: he had pretended to flee far, then doubled back from afar and hidden himself in the black clouds above. Yet even so, no one appeared in the temple. At last a look of dejection came over Lü Shun's face; with a long sigh he was silent a moment, then rose once more on his sword and flew south, and thereafter was seen no more—this time he had truly gone.

The ancient temple once again returned to stillness, but a moment later two dark shadows shifted, and slowly two figures emerged.

The foremost walked slowly into the courtyard. Moonlight like water poured coldly down, drawing his figure into a long, slender shadow upon the broken bluestone flagstones.

It was Ming Li.

He raised his head and looked at the moon.

The moonlight shone cold upon his face.

Suddenly, he seemed to have acquired a touch of world-weariness.

Even the little grey monkey crouched on his shoulder seemed silent now, and like its master quietly raised its head to gaze at the moon.

"What, does the young master fancy this southern moonlight?" Suddenly, from behind him, another slender figure still hidden in the shadows spoke in a soft, pleasing voice that reached his ear.

Ming Li slowly withdrew his gaze, but did not turn his head, nor answer the shadow woman's question; instead he asked, "Why did you kill that fish-man?"

The woman, still hidden in the shadows, gave a light laugh. "Those fish-men harmed not only the young master's men but my own as well. I did it to vent your anger for you, young master."

Ming Li's expression did not change in the least; plainly he did not believe a word of it. He said coolly, "I have long heard that the Purple Ray Blade is a divine weapon of the nine heavens. Today, wielded in your hands, it has indeed shown power beyond the guessing of gods and ghosts."

The woman gave another light laugh, soft and sweet, and in that desolate night it seemed suddenly to add a few strokes of color, coming vividly to life.

Footsteps sounded softly, and she slowly stepped out from the shadows.

It was none other than Jin Pingyue of the Heretic Sect's Soul-Bewildering Faction, known to all as "Young Master Miao." Bathed in the moonlight, she still wore her pale yellow gown, its soft collar stirring gently in the night wind, while a few fine strands of hair hung loose at her temples—slightly disheveled, yet somehow all the more subtly alluring.

A deep mountain, an ancient temple—a cold night, a beautiful woman!

At this moment her eyes were brimming like water, and between her brows seemed to lie a landscape of spring, of a purity beyond all comparison. For a while, even the night itself seemed to have turned gentle.

Ming Li turned and let his gaze rest upon her face.

The smile still lingered at the corner of Jin Pingyue's mouth as she said softly, "You carry a rare treasure, young master—a peerless wonder born of the Blood-Devouring Orb and the Soul-Stealer joined as one. How would my little Purple Radiance Blade dare to be named in the same breath as your Soul-Severer?"

A red gleam flashed once through Ming Li's eyes, but his expression did not change. "Have you come south this time, young lady, also to investigate these fish-men of the alien tribes?"

Jin Pingyue gave a slight nod, then her eyes rippled and turned. "But I never expected this matter to have a connection with Burning Cloud Valley."

Ming Li glanced at her and said nothing, yet in his heart he grew warier of this woman by the moment. Her sudden ambush and slaying of the fish-men's tribal chief just now—the height of her cultivation seemed considerably greater than the arts she had displayed that day in the Dead Marsh, when she, he, and Qin Wujiu had joined forces to besiege Yu Yangzi of the Longevity Hall. He feared she had not gone all out that day.

Yet such depth of cultivation was, in the end, a secondary matter; he too had held something in reserve that day. But Jin Pingyue's killing of the fish-man clearly carried the intent of framing Burning Cloud Valley, of sowing discord between the barbarian tribes who consorted in secret and Burning Cloud Valley.

The depth of this woman's scheming and the ruthlessness of her methods were truly no small matter.

Jin Pingyue's gaze turned several times over Ming Li's face, and suddenly she smiled. "You have come south this time, young master, surely also to investigate these fish-men. I wonder—have you found anything?"

Ming Li said flatly, "No."

Jin Pingyue was not angered by his cold answer; instead her smile grew softer. "Only now we both know that Burning Cloud Valley seems to have dealings in secret with these barbarian monsters. I wonder what you intend to do, young master?"

Ming Li's eyes flickered. "What does the young lady think?"

Jin Pingyue smiled. "It was I who asked you first, young master."

Hearing her counter-question, half chiding and half laughing, Ming Li frowned, and countless thoughts turned in his mind: this sudden discovery that Burning Cloud Valley was secretly in league with the southern barbarian tribes was truly a matter to shock the world. If it spread throughout the land, those righteous cultivators would doubtless be struck dumb with amazement.

Under such circumstances, the best course was naturally to probe the mysterious, unfathomable Burning Cloud Valley. Yet in the present situation there seemed to be much more beneath the surface. To say nothing of the southern barbarian tribes, who had always been steeped in mystery—Burning Cloud Valley alone was a force not to be underestimated. Li Xun, Yan Fei, and the others who had once emerged from that valley, including the old man Lü Shun just now, were all of exceedingly high cultivation.

Jin Pingyue slowly walked up before Ming Li, raised her head to look at him, and smiled. "Is it in your mind, young master, to pay Burning Cloud Valley a visit by night?"

Ming Li's eyes flashed. "What—does the young lady harbor the same intent?"

Jin Pingyue smiled faintly, so charming and bewitching that a beauty seemed to come straight at him; Ming Li's resolve wavered despite himself, and he could not help but be shaken inwardly.

Jin Pingyue said mildly, "Naturally I am willing to make this trip with you, young master. Only there is one thing I would beg you to grant me first."

Ming Li's gaze sharpened. "What?"

Jin Pingyue smiled. "I only beg that you not do to me as you did to Qin Wujiu—suddenly striking from the side to kill me."