Chapter 123 — Smoke from Every Orifice

Zhou Lin was crafty to the extreme. He had long since guessed that the Qianji Daoist must have another ambush waiting—for the Four Dharma Kings were no cruel and murderous brutes. So long as he surrendered the Dharma-wheel, they would not make things hard for him. But the Qianji Daoist, whose mortal body he had destroyed, hated him to the bone. How could such a man give up so easily? Most likely he had schemed even the Four Dharma Kings into his calculations. And so it proved: the Immortal-Binding Rope appeared, the *lama showed himself, and one after another they confirmed Zhou Yan's reasoning. Had the Qianji Daoist laid no ambush, Zhou Li would not have struck in stealth even as he handed over the Dharma-wheel. Zhou Xuan had read the Qianji Daoist's mind exactly, knowing that the moment he made his move, the Qianji Daoist was certain to make his own.

There was another reason Zhou Xuan's calculations were so exact: the Immortal-Binding Rope. That rope could not possibly belong to the Qianji Daoist. Otherwise, when the Qianji Daoist had dueled him that day, he would not have resorted to the God-Beating Whip. Mighty as the Whip was, it was nowhere near as handy as the Immortal-Binding Rope. Had the Qianji Daoist suddenly brought out the rope that day, would Zhou Xuan not have been trussed up tight? Weighing it all, Zhou Ji reached his conclusion: the rope was lent to the Qianji Daoist by someone else. In the whole world of cultivation, he had no enemies save Kunlun. Who would be willing to lend the Qianji Daoist such a treasure merely to deal with him? If it was not aimed at him, then it was aimed at the Four Dharma Kings. And the best moment to strike at the Four Dharma Kings was while he and they were locked in desperate combat.

In an instant he had reasoned out the correct conclusion, made the correct judgment, and even planted a hidden move for later. In sheer speed of reaction and subtlety of calculation, he was likely unmatched in all the world.

Zhou Yan's thirteen centipedes were in effect his own avatars, each bearing a fragment of his primal essence. Moreover, Zhou Xuan had forged them with purple dragon silverstone, the Great Derivation Divine Talisman, the sacred blood of the Nine Li, the bloodline of the Six-Winged Golden Silkworm—rare treasures of heaven and earth such as the world seldom sees. They could grow or shrink at will, ferocious beyond measure, wielded with perfect ease. In the very instant he handed over the Dharma-wheel, Zhou Xuan transformed and concealed the thirteen iron-backed centipedes, hiding them within the Dharma-wheel by the art of the Sumeru Mustard-Seed, waiting for the right moment.

Zhou Xuan invoked the Red Lotus Karmic Fire, shed the coils of the Immortal-Binding Rope, and bore Yun Xiuzi westward at the fastest speed he could muster—covering in the space of a single cup of tea the distance to this vast and boundless ocean. In that whole contest, apart from the loss of one lotus blossom, Zhou Xuan had taken no real harm; his fighting strength had not diminished. Yet still he fled at a dead run. First, Yun Xiuzi's cultivation was still weak, a burden he could not simply abandon. Second, the *lama held the Immortal-Binding Rope, and with the Qianji Daoist lending aid, Zhou Xuan would surely have come off badly. Of course he would run as far as he could. In any case, his thirteen primal-essence centipedes were hidden inside the Dharma-wheel, watching the course of events at every moment, ready to burst out and strike the instant an opening appeared. Zhou Xuan read the faces and the moods: the *lama had let the Qianji Daoist gain not the slightest advantage. That the Qianji Daoist would swallow such a thing—now that would be strange indeed.

And indeed, everything that followed unfolded just as Zhou Yan had foreseen. The Four Dharma Kings detonated their golden bodies and primal essence, grievously wounding the *lama; the Qianji Daoist struck in stealth and finished the *lama off. But Zhou Xuan had not reckoned on the Qianji Daoist being so cunning as to hide at once within a Sumeru Mustard-Seed space. Had Zhou Yan's iron-backed centipedes not carried no primal essence upon them, he truly could not have found him.

In the end, though, it was Zhou Xuan whose calculations ran deeper. At the most critical moment, he played the Qianji Daoist a dirty trick, making off with the Immortal-Binding Rope, the Dharma-wheel of Nirvanic Extinction, the Wind-Calming Pearl—and he did not even spare the dregs of the *lama's Arhat golden body. So ruthless were his methods, so thorough his plunder, that the most vicious bandit or robber would have been hard pressed to match him.

At this sudden turn, the Qianji Daoist was struck dumb. Only when seven centipedes burst through the barrier of his own space and flew off to who knew where did he come to his senses. His blood surged upward, his chest tightened, and almost at the same instant as Zhou Jin, ten thousand li away upon the great ocean, the Qianji Daoist opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of fresh blood.

But he had no time now to stamp his feet and curse Zhou Yan's ancestors for eighteen generations, for the great formation formed by the remaining six centipedes had already encircled him tight!

Even the five sariras, shaken by the turmoil in the Qianji Daoist's mind, slipped from his control and fell one after another. The formation of iron-backed centipedes gave off a powerful suction, about to draw the five sariras into the array!

Though Zhou Xuan was ten thousand li away, he commanded them with perfect ease, as deftly as though they were his own arms. So handy were primal-essence magic treasures.

Having gained so many advantages, Zhou Xuan was still not satisfied—he even wanted those five sariras, as though he meant to leave the Qianji Daoist not so much as a scrap. And fair enough: the stronger one's enemy, the greater one's peril. Anyone in his place would have done the same. But to do such a thing required sufficient strength, did it not? Had Zhou Yan's primal essence not been mightily strong beyond all precedent, any cultivator whatsoever would never have dreamed of playing tricks before the Qianji Daoist.

"What's happened to you? Nothing's gone wrong, has it?" Yun Xiuzi had never before seen Zhou Xuan manifest his golden-body Dharma-form, and she was astonished, not knowing what it was. But Zhou Xuan had told her to stand guard with care, and she dared not be negligent. Once Zhou Xuan finished his business, she knew, Zhou Jin would surely tell her. Now, seeing Zhou Xuan suddenly spit out a mouthful of blood, her heart clenched and she asked at once.

"Don't worry, it's a small matter. Don't mind me—just pay attention. In a moment, when my centipede comes flying over, you must take it in at once." One of the divine eyes on a face of Zhou Xuan's golden-body Dharma-form suddenly shot out a golden light that fell into Yun Xiuzi's hand, forming a gilded symbol. "Just use this talisman to beckon the centipede, and that will do. Right now I must throw my whole strength into contesting the Qianji Daoist in spellcraft, and I cannot spare any thought. You must be sure to take in that centipede—do not let it fall into anyone else's hands. Be sure, be sure!" Zhou Xuan spoke rapidly, his hands forming seal after seal without pause, as though the matter were desperate beyond measure.

Though Yun Xiuzi did not understand what on earth Zhou Xuan was doing, his manner told her the situation was urgent, and she said no more. She looked at the gilded talisman in her palm, then clenched her fist tight, as though fearing the talisman might vanish.

Carefully she scanned her surroundings, then with a wave of her hand sent out a hazy rosy radiance, laying several quite serviceable restrictive wards around Zhou Xuan. Then she watched the four directions tensely, ready to activate the talisman and draw the centipede into her hand the instant it appeared.