The two were of the same origin, and the swastika mantra on the Blood-devouring Bead did indeed brighten considerably. But before Zhang Qingyue could even smile, it dimmed again in an instant, and at the same time a stream of icy cold took the opportunity to invade his body; within moments half of Zhang Qingyue's body had gone numb.

The gray monkey beside him suddenly saw Zhang Qingyue's face contort with pain, a deep blue vapor surging across it. It gave two anxious squeaks, "zhizhi," badly worried. But Zhang Qingyue had no thought to spare; he felt all the blood and essence in his body flowing backward, streaming toward that uncanny bead in his right hand. And the Great Brahma Prajna within him collapsed at a touch—no match at all for that icy cold. Now every meridian in his body cramped in agony, and his suffering was unbearable.

He could endure it no longer. He staggered back a few steps, and then his whole body convulsed again and that familiar wave of nausea rose up once more, rushing at his entrails—he had carelessly strayed into that clearing again. Only this time there was no warm current to rise up and fend it off.

The gray monkey panicked, "zhizhi zhizhi" without cease, yet it dared not set foot in the clearing, not one step, come what may.

Zhang Qingyue was terrified out of his wits, at a loss what to do, feeling his body now freeze and now burn as though ten thousand ants gnawed at him, nauseated and retching yet with nothing to bring up—truly, he would sooner have died. His senses blurred, and he stumbled forward, wholly unaware that he had taken the wrong direction, feeling only his strength ebb away bit by bit.

His whole body shook, his limbs had no strength, and his legs gave way; he slumped to the ground. By now he had reached the edge of the pool. Summoning the last scrap of his will, he roused the Supreme Clarity Way of the Taiji, barely drawing a little of the world's vital spirit into his body, where it turned into Great Brahma Prajna—and it did ease his pain a little, but only for a moment before it came to nothing. Zhang Qingyue no longer cared; he forced himself to keep at it, for whatever relief a single breath could buy. Yet that icy cold was too strong, and with that uncanny nausea it nearly turned his entrails inside out and rushed at his skull. Stars burst before his eyes, his breathing grew disordered, and suddenly a sweetness rose in his throat—"Blargh!"—a great mouthful of blood burst from him, and he nearly swooned.

Just then came a muffled sound, and in that instant it seemed the very sky darkened. Blue light blazed from the Blood-devouring Bead until the whole bead was blue, a dim golden light flickered past, and the Buddhist swastika mantra was shattered utterly. At once Zhang Qingyue's whole body was shrouded in blue vapor, like a bloodthirsty demon reborn.

Yet the strangeness was not over. Almost at the same moment the blue vapor regained its freedom, a great crash rose from the center of the pool, and at once wind rose and clouds gathered, the broken stones in the pool shooting out in all directions with a rattle of thumps. The emerald water heaved into waves that spun furiously around the center, forming a great whirlpool. And from the whirlpool, through the spray and gaps in the water, a thing slowly rose, wreathed in black vapor—it was that rod of profound black, some two feet long, neither metal nor iron, a baleful aura striking at the face.

Zhang Qingyue gave a great cry and fell backward. The Blood-devouring Bead seemed stuck to his palm; he could not fling it off, and within it he glimpsed a faint trace of blood color slowly flowing from his own body into the bead.

With a whistling shriek, amid the crash of waves, the black rod suddenly shot forth, hurtling at the blue-blazing Blood-devouring Bead. A moment later came a tremendous boom as the two objects of deepest malevolence smashed together. Zhang Qingyue, struck as if by a great shock, was flung a full ten feet into the air, and beneath him the earth of the clearing was blasted into a great crater by the force of it.

Zhang Qingyue fell back to the ground, blood streaming from every orifice, his head swimming. Yet the pain within his body seemed somehow to have eased. He saw all before him in a haze of blood—his eyes were bleeding too—and wiped at them with all his strength. He saw that the strange black rod had struck the Blood-devouring Bead, and thread upon thread of black vapor poured endlessly forward in attack. The Blood-devouring Bead, as though possessed of spirit, knew its foe was mighty: it drew back its blue vapor and resisted with all its force. The two were locked in a standoff, and the icy cold and nausea in Zhang Qingyue's body gradually receded.

Zhang Qingyue gasped for breath, his soul still shaken. He shook his hand by reflex, but those two uncanny things seemed a part of his palm; he could not shake them off, and black vapor and blue light still fought without cease.

Fear seized Zhang Qingyue; he wanted only to get as far from these two uncanny things as he could. He gathered all his strength and climbed to his feet, but before he had taken a single step his head swam; his whole body swayed, his legs were weak, and he toppled sideways to the ground again. Before his eyes the blue bead and black rod wound their two vapors together, battling with abandon, but the black vapor billowed and seemed to have the upper hand.

After a moment, sure enough, the black vapor pressed home its assault and the blue light fell back step by step, seemingly powerless to resist. Just then Zhang Qingyue felt a sharp pain in his palm. He looked, and his heart nearly leapt out of his mouth. Around the rim where the Blood-devouring Bead clung to his palm, dark red blood was seeping out through the skin, ceaseless, little by little gathering into a great drop.

Zhang Qingyue shuddered from head to foot, all color gone from his face. In answer, the Blood-devouring Bead, bathed in that drop of blood, suddenly blazed with blue light and counterattacked with all its force, not only turning the tide but slowly overwhelming the black vapor.

As more and more blood seeped from his hand, Zhang Qingyue gradually lost consciousness. The bright red blood crept upward, slowly reaching the junction of the black rod and the Blood-devouring Bead, where it stopped flowing, while blue light and black vapor fought on without cease. After a moment it seeped in at that spot, little by little dyeing red the part where the tip of the rod touched the bead.

A faint smell of blood drifted on the air.

As time passed, that red deepened, until at last it was almost vivid enough to drip. And somehow the blue light and black vapor that had been locked in struggle both dimmed, and from their former stance of mutual repulsion there slowly emerged, instead, a tendency to merge.

How long it lasted, he did not know, but at last the uncanny transformation ran its course. Black rod and blue bead lost all their luster and fused one into the other; with a click, they fell from the unconscious Zhang Qingyue's hand and dropped to the ground.

"Xiaofan! Xiaofan! Little junior brother!" A voice called out in anxious succession, echoing at Zhang Qingyue's ear.

His mind was a muddle, his head splitting with pain, and it seemed to take all his strength even to open his eyes. Tian Lingsu's face, anxious and edged with panic, seemed both far and near, slowly growing clear before his eyes. He moved his lips and called softly, "Senior sister."

Tian Lingsu was overjoyed. "Xiaofan, you're awake?"

Zhang Qingyue forced a smile. "I'm all right, senior sister."