Chapter 111 — Demon Shadows Dance upon the Cresting Waves
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 3 of 4
These girls had labored hard at music; no sooner had his thunder tones thrown them into disorder than they adjusted themselves again, each wearing a solemn expression as they played, seeking to suppress the noise Shen Mu produced. Deng! Deng!
Deng! Shen Mu's thunder tones suddenly changed, becoming resounding and powerful, like the clang of metal and stone, a killing aura surging forth in vast waves, once again pressing down the girls' music. The pipa under his fingers gave rise to strange sounds on every side, leaving the girls looking at one another in dismay.
Yet this only stirred a competitive spirit in the girls. The qin girl clapped her palm, and the guqin stood upright, a chi tall, and she played it upright, ten fingers flying, the music leaping so fast the ear could not distinguish the flavor of each note.
The flute girl rose to her feet, her steps moving of themselves. With each step she took, her momentum rose a degree, and the flute's voice grew a degree clearer, the melody curling and spiraling upward, bent on suppressing the strange sounds Shen Mu produced. A woman nearby lifted a large ruan, her trailing ribbons fluttering, touching the ground now and then and bearing her aloft, pressing down on Shen Mu's strange sounds from the air. Another woman hastily ran from the pavilion, and the next moment she wheeled out a great yangqin from the room, striking it with ding-dong strokes; the yangqin's tones were clear and stirring, and the melody seemed on the verge of transforming into a divine ability, pushing the girl seated before the qin, qin and all, forward, pressing upon Shen Mu and the noise he made.
Yet another girl ran from the pavilion, and with a single boom she actually tore down the room's door, wheeling out a rack of fifty-six bells of varying sizes. She took up a mallet and struck the bells, and the bell tones were grand and resonant; the fifty-six bells each had a different voice, and the sound came crashing toward Shen Mu. Shen Mu, lost in his delight, hugged the pipa and laughed aloud.
The pipa could produce only limited music, yet in his hands it played out armored horses and golden spears, as if he had entered a battlefield thick with dark clouds where gods and demons slaughtered one another, and amid flashing lightning and pealing thunder, gods and demons unleashed their killing, flaunting their might! In his mind, whether it was the Eight Peals of Thunderclap that Old Master Huo had taught him, or the village headman's sword art, or the lame old man's leg techniques, the butcher's blade art, the silent craftsman's hammer art—all were kneaded by him into his playing. The Great Nurturing Dark Demon Scripture also contained chapters on music, and now they too poured into his mind in a rush, making his pipa strains urgent and pressing, the killing intent ever heavier, until faintly the pipa seemed to carry divine notes, demonic notes, and the faint echo of Buddhist notes.
Suddenly the pavilion could no longer withstand the music of all present and split apart in four directions. The girls and Shen Mu were about to fall into the pool, and each hastily burst forth their vital essence to stand upon the water.
The girls walked upon the water, revolving ceaselessly around Shen Mu, their music ever more urgent and tight. Shen Mu burst forth his vital essence, held the pipa upright in the air, ten fingers leaping, the pipa's voice clamoring and cutting, fending off the music coming from all directions. Suddenly string after string of the pipa snapped.
Shen Mu flung the pipa away, and the girls' hearts leapt with joy—but then the pool water suddenly floated upward in threads, each water thread encircling Shen Mu. No longer constrained by the size of the pipa, the water threads all around became the strings he plucked; he struck the water threads, and thunder tones erupted, shaking the girls reeling this way and that.