Zhou Wuji had long suspected that things would not go too smoothly. Hearing Daoist Yiping say this, however, took a weight off his mind instead.
"Please give me some guidance, Martial Uncle."
Frowning, Daoist Yiping said, "The abbot wants to question you regarding your master."
Afraid Zhou Wuji might act rashly, the old Daoist cautioned, "Abbot Zhiyuan is a fifth-rank Scripture Master, wondrously versed in the scriptures and profound in cultivation.
"What is more, the questioning will take place in Heart Inquest Hall, which houses the hall's guardian spiritual artifact, the Heart Inquest Mirror. If you tell any lies, the abbot will see through them immediately."
"This disciple understands," Zhou Wuji nodded.
A seventh-rank ordained Daoist had met a sudden, unexpected death; naturally, the branch abbey needed a clear explanation. He had long prepared himself for this.
Yiping instructed further, "The abbot belongs to the Zhi generation, making him your grandmaster by seniority. You may address him simply as 'Abbot', but mind your manners..."
Zhou Wuji changed into a brand-new set of Daoist robes, shoes, and socks, tidied his topknot, and made himself neat and presentable. This was basic courtesy.
Heart Inquest Hall stood behind the Grand Hall of the Arctic Celestial Emperor on the shady northern slope of the mountain, in an even more secluded location than Feixuan Hall.
Yet Heart Inquest Hall was clean and elegant. The hall was three bays wide, roofed entirely with glazed tiles. Its doors and pillars gleamed with bright vermilion lacquer, and the bluestone steps were pristine as though newly washed.
Entering the main hall, Zhou Wuji saw an emaciated Daoist seated on a prayer mat. Behind the Daoist stood a bronze mirror as massive as a wall.
The bronze mirror was hazy, faintly reflecting the Daoist's back and Zhou Wuji's figure, though neither form could be seen clearly.
The Daoist wore robes of dark yellow, crowned with a stellar cap and holding a jade-handled horsetail whisk. His face was creased with deep wrinkles, his beard and hair completely white, his frame gaunt—he looked exceedingly aged.
Yet his eyes shone brightly, brimming with spirit.
Zhou Wuji cast a single glance before immediately retracting his gaze, bowing deeply in greeting. "Disciple Wuji pays respects to the Abbot."
Having reached minor accomplishment in swordsmanship, Zhou Wuji's body, inside and out, had been integrated by his sword art. Standing there, his posture was tall and straight, yet naturally relaxed.
Coupled with his possession of a peerless divine artifact like the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment and his streak of slaying enemies, a formidable confidence had grown from deep within him.
Even when facing Abbot Zhiyuan, a fifth-rank Scripture Master and head of the branch abbey, he remained poised and calm.
Daoist Zhiyuan slowly lifted his lowered eyes, scrutinizing Zhou Wuji from head to toe.
The young man was handsome and upright, clad in fresh, roomy green Daoist robes, with an ease-and-unfettered scarf tied around his topknot, exuding an air of carefree grace.
The elder could not help but nod inwardly. The branch abbey had countless disciples, but in terms of poise and bearing, this young man could truly be called foremost among them.
At twenty-one and already at the eighth rank, his aptitude and talent were quite decent as well.
Zhiyuan said to Zhou Wuji, "Recount in detail how your master passed away. Not a single word of falsehood."
Having been cautioned by Yiping, Zhou Wuji did not dare speak recklessly, giving a detailed account of what had transpired.
After listening, Zhiyuan let out a long sigh. "Yiyuan possessed peerless talent, and his mastery of swordsmanship was truly consummate. But he was too fiercely competitive—going too far is as bad as falling short. That is what brought about this catastrophe."
The old Daoist looked at Zhou Wuji and said solemnly, "Though your master possessed formidable skill, he strictly observed the precepts and could be called first in discipline across the branch abbey.
"You strike me as somewhat unrestrained by nature; in this regard, you must learn well from your master."
"Disciple takes the Abbot's admonition to heart and will never dare forget it." In front of a fifth-rank Scripture Master, no matter what Zhou Wuji thought inside, he acted exceedingly meek and compliant on the surface.
"According to branch abbey rules, you must go to Myriad Ghosts Cavern and slay a baleful ghost before you are qualified to receive ordination."
"Understood," Zhou Wuji bowed in acknowledgment.
Browsing the sect's records over the past few days, he had learned that beneath the Grand Hall of the Arctic Celestial Emperor lay a bottomless cavern.
Earthy yin qi gathered within the cavern, drawing vast numbers of wandering souls and fierce ghosts.
Over time, it had become an ominous peril.
The branch abbey had been established here specifically to suppress Myriad Ghosts Cavern.
Out in the open, a seventh-rank baleful ghost posed no threat to him. But in a cavern thick with earthy yin qi, its power would multiply at least three- to fivefold.
For an eighth-rank Qi Ingestion cultivator to slay a baleful ghost in Myriad Ghosts Cavern was indeed an explicit sect rule, not the abbot making things difficult for him.
Zhou Wuji showed nothing on his face, but inwardly he was delighted.
He had been wanting to find more baleful ghosts, and here the abbot was delivering them right to his doorstep!
The old fellow really knew how to oblige!
Emerging from Heart Inquest Hall, Zhou Wuji saw Daoist Yiping waiting outside.
Daoist Yiping gave an inquiring look. Zhou Wuji nodded slightly, and delight instantly spread across Yiping's chubby, round face.
Now that he had passed the abbot's hurdle, the rest would be smooth sailing.
Returning to Feixuan Hall, Daoist Yiping said, "I've prepared several Golden Light Talismans and Mind-Purifying Divine Talismans to protect you. There are also three Golden Yang Pills, more than enough to guard your mind and body against yin qi corrosion, replenish spiritual qi, and enhance your divine sense.
"You also have Senior Brother's Seven Stars Sword. As long as you stay on the first level of the cavern and remain cautious, you'll be well able to handle whatever comes."
Yiping saw that Zhou Wuji had the Seven Stars Sword on him. He knew Senior Brother Yiyuan had refined that sword over many years, making it a formidable dharma artifact.
Fierce as baleful ghosts were, they ultimately lacked intellect. With Zhou Wuji's wit and composure, handling them would not be too difficult.
After a simple lunch at noon, Daoist Yiping personally escorted Zhou Wuji to Myriad Ghosts Cavern.
The cavern lay directly beneath the Grand Hall of the Arctic Celestial Emperor. Following a passage dozens of zhang deep underground, they arrived at a set of heavy double wooden doors plastered with bright red cinnabar talismans.
Two Daoists guarded the entrance. Daoist Yiping went over and spoke a few words, and the two Daoists pulled open one door, leaving a two-foot gap.
A gust of yin wind blew against Zhou Wuji's face, a chill penetrating him thoroughly inside and out.
"Stay on the first level. Whatever you do, don't go deeper. There are sixth-rank ghost soldiers on the second level, which are extremely dangerous..."
Yiping gave a few reminders and said a few kind words to the two Daoists guarding the entrance, asking them to look out for Zhou Wuji.
Zhou Wuji exchanged a few polite words as well before stepping through the door, holding a bronze lotus oil lamp.
As the heavy door slowly shut behind him, the passage grew increasingly gloomy and cold.
The dim yellow glow shed by the bronze lotus lamp illuminated an area of barely a zhang across.
Carrying the lotus lamp, Zhou Wuji made his way downward along the passage. The further he went, the more open the space became, and the colder it turned.
Faint plumes of white mist now rose as he exhaled. Even clad in thick Daoist robes, his entire body was icy cold, and his hand holding the lamp was nearly frozen stiff.
The chill of the cavern was not merely low temperature; worse still was the intangible yin qi that could penetrate straight to the marrow.
Though Zhou Wuji was accomplished in Qi Ingestion, he could not keep his true qi circulating endlessly to ward off the yin qi.
Having experienced the severity of the yin qi, Zhou Wuji no longer dared push his luck and took a Golden Yang Pill.
A seventh-rank spirit elixir worth fifty taels of silver showed its effects immediately.
A strand of warm pure yang qi rose from within, swiftly coursing through his entire body to dispel all the yin qi, invigorating his spirits and sharpening his mind.
Now Zhou Wuji finally had the presence of mind to examine his surroundings. Though referred to as a cavern, in truth it was more like an immense enclosed cave.
The vaulted ceiling rose dozens of zhang high, too distant for him to see clearly.
He could only make out numerous divine statues carved into the rock wall on one side, alongside countless talismans and runes for subduing demons and quelling evil spirits.
As he ventured deeper, the carved statues and runes appeared weathered, growing blurrier and blurrier.
Faint blue-green points of light began to speckle the stone wall like will-o'-the-wisps. Zhou Wuji guessed they might be some kind of luminescent moss, special minerals, or perhaps condensed yin qi.
After walking for over half an hour, Zhou Wuji had found no sign of baleful ghosts, nor any fierce ghosts or ferocious spirits.
He found this rather strange. As the focal eye of yin qi and a realm of utmost yin, Myriad Ghosts Cavern would naturally attract all kinds of ghostly entities.
Just as water flowed downward, this was a natural law of this world.
How could there not be a single ghost?
Remembering the method Yiping had shared, Zhou Wuji pricked his fingertip with the Seven Stars Sword and flicked out several drops of blood.
A faint metallic scent of blood drifted into the air, and with it, the pure yang qi contained in his blood dispersed.
Before long, gusts of yin wind swirled all around, and two crimson shadowy figures materialized from nowhere, lunging straight at Zhou Wuji.
Seventh-rank baleful ghosts could shift between substance and shadow, making them exceedingly difficult to kill.
The heavy yin qi in the cavern magnified their ferocity even further.
Fortunately, baleful ghosts possessed no intellect, driven solely by baleful qi to hunt all living things on sheer instinct.
Watching the two crimson ghosts swoop down, Zhou Wuji drew his sword and swept it across.
A brilliant flash of sword light tore through the gloom, shattering both crimson figures within the arc.
With his swordsmanship at minor accomplishment, qi followed sword, unleashing the power of the Big Dipper Seven Stars Demon-Slaying art imbued within the blade.
The strike struck the spiritual cores of both baleful ghosts dead-on, instantly obliterating every shred of their spiritual essence.
On the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, words immediately surfaced: Seventh-Rank Baleful Ghosts Slain.
Joy leaped in Zhou Wuji's heart. He took out a Five Yin Talisman, intending to gather the lingering yin qi of the baleful ghosts, when clusters of crimson ghostly figures began rising from the ground.
Crimson ghost shadows layered one upon another, surging toward him like a vast bank of billowing fog—too numerous to count in an instant.
The baleful qi in these shadowy forms was insufficient; they were likely all eighth-rank fierce ghosts...
Rather than alarmed, Zhou Wuji was thrilled. With his left hand, he drew a Golden Light Talisman from his sleeve, silently chanting the incantation to activate it with true qi.
The Golden Light Talisman dissolved into a swath of golden radiance that fell over the layered red shadows. Like boiling broth poured over snow, the blood-colored specters were pierced with hundreds and thousands of holes by the golden light, their surging momentum grinding to a halt.
Piercing shrieks and wails of ghosts echoed through the empty air.
In Zhou Wuji's hand, the Seven Stars Sword hummed and vibrated. Its slender blade suddenly transformed into a sheet of sword light dense as driving rain—the Night Rain Sword of the Xiaoxiang Sword style.
This sword technique was dense, somber, and imbued with sublime intent. Only because Zhou Wuji had attained minor accomplishment in swordsmanship could he draw forth the true essence of the Night Rain Sword.
The rain-dense sword light fell, tearing the swarming blood-shadows to tatters...
Chapter 16