Chapter 59 — Malice

Tian Buhui's face darkened at once, and the crowd was stunned.

Then, under everyone's gaze, Zhang Qingyue saw that Song Dayi still stood before him. His right hand tightened on the Dark Iron Staff, and at once a clear, cold azure light rose from the shaft, bearing a killing intent such as it had never shown before.

This time Song Dayi was truly frightened—not by the intensity of that killing intent, nor by how far Zhang Qingyue's cultivation seemed to have advanced since he went down the mountain a month ago, but because this little junior brother who had revered and loved him since childhood now truly seemed to mean to kill him.

He saw it, and Tian Buhui saw it too. His face grim, Tian Buhui took a step forward. Though he still believed Zhang Qingyue was no match for Song Dayi, the young disciple's treasure was decidedly peculiar—it had shone brilliantly at the Seven Peaks Tournament that day—and he feared Song Dayi would not find him easy to handle.

Just then Tian Lingsu ran out, her face full of astonishment, and planted herself between Zhang Qingyue and Song Dayi. To this little junior brother she had cherished since childhood she said, aghast, "Xiaofan, what on earth is wrong with you?"

That face engraved upon his heart, those bright eyes—this woman who haunted his dreams—stood right before him now, asking with such concern, such care...

Zhang Qingyue was suddenly stupefied, utterly frozen, as if waking from a dream. The malice in his body ebbed away like the tide—but, but he felt a pain as if being torn apart, and staring blankly at his senior sister before him, he felt an urge to weep aloud!

Do you know that at the hour of life and death, the one my heart clung to most was you?

Do you know that when my dreams returned to Qingyun, all those tangled, tender feelings were only for you?

Do you know...

"Crack!" A sharp, heavy sound—Tian Buhui, who had suddenly appeared beside him, dealt Zhang Qingyue a slap across the face, and the whole man flew back without meaning to, tracing an arc through the air before landing far away on the outside.

The crowd stirred in alarm.

Zhang Qingyue lay on the ground, stars bursting before his eyes, but as his senses returned he felt an overwhelming shame. To think he had meant to strike his senior brother, who had looked after him since childhood, and had harbored murderous thoughts—truly wicked beyond redemption, guilty of the gravest sin!

He struggled to rise, but before he could straighten up his legs gave way and he fell again. Half his face was hugely swollen, and bright red blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

Yet now he seemed unable to feel the pain of his body at all. Deep within, with a dread he had never known, he roared at himself: What's wrong, what's wrong, what on earth is wrong with you—have you gone mad?

He raised his head blankly and looked at the people of his sect ahead, and it was as if everyone had suddenly become strangers. And the way they looked at him was as if they were looking at a stranger they had never seen.

What on earth had happened to everything?

Zhang Qingyue climbed painfully to his feet. No one spoke; everyone was watching him, but their expressions held far more bewilderment than fear, as if even they did not know what had happened.

Song Dayi, after all, cared for Zhang Qingyue from the bottom of his heart. He turned to Tian Buhui and said, "Master, little junior brother, he—he meant no disrespect, he was only, only..."

"Silence!" Tian Buhui barked, and Song Dayi dared not go on. Short and stout as he was, Tian Buhui now looked like a towering wrathful god as he walked toward Zhang Qingyue, step by step.

A flicker of fear showed on Zhang Qingyue's face. This, after all, was the master he had dreaded most since childhood, and he dared not even imagine what he was about to face.

Suddenly a figure in white stepped in front of Zhang Qingyue.

The crowd was greatly startled.

Lin Jinghong's face was cold as frost, his sword-brows knit tight, yet facing this renowned peak lord of Great Bamboo Peak of the Canglan Sect, he remained as he had been in his youth, without the slightest fear.

In robes white as snow he stood there as if nailed to the earth, not shifting so much as a fraction—as though even towering waves before him could not move him in the least.

"Clang!" With a dragon's cry, the Slaying Dragon Sword flashed from its sheath, its emerald light enfolding him and Zhang Qingyue—these two men of like birth. Filled with an air of awe, paying no heed at all to Senior Brother Qi Hao, whom he had always respected, who was frantically signaling him with his eyes, he said resolutely, "If you dare touch Xiaofan again, you'll have to kill me first!"

Qi Hao drew in a sharp breath of cold air and stole a glance at Tian Buhui. Tian Buhui's face was now as ugly as it could be, almost the color of a pig's liver. How furious he was within, one needed no great effort to guess.

But Qi Hao, as the eldest disciple of Long Peak, had no reason to shrink back, and Lin Jinghong had always been deeply favored by their master, Daoist Cangyan. There was no way he could simply stand by and do nothing.

Reading Tian Buhui's expression, Qi Hao knew that trying to talk him around would be utterly useless. He could only hurry over, pull at Lin Jinghong, and say in a low voice, "Have you lost your mind, junior brother? This is an internal family matter of Dazhu Peak. What business is it of yours to meddle in? Even if our master were here, he would not say anything. Come with me, quickly!"

To his surprise, Lin Jinghong was utterly unlike his usual self today. He gave a cold snort and said, "If I leave, who knows what torment this man will put Xiaofan through. His lot in life has been lonely and bitter, just like mine. If I do not stand on his side, then there will be no one left in this world to stand on his side." As he spoke, his gaze was like lightning, fixed straight upon the disciples of Dazhu Peak. Though he well knew the gap in strength was far too great, from his expression, for the sake of the brother behind him, he had clearly set life and death aside.

Qi Hao was struck dumb. Seeing that this junior brother Lin had dug in his heels with a mule's stubbornness, he was truly frantic with anxiety. Just as he was at his wit's end, a hand suddenly came to rest on Lin Jinghong's shoulder.

Lin Jinghong gave a start and turned to look, and saw that it was Zhang Qingyue who had come to stand behind him. Half of his face was swollen up high, but his eyes were already brimming with hot tears, and his voice came out choked: "Jingyu, your—your kindness I will not forget. It is I who am in the wrong now. I will go and admit my fault to Master. You go back with Senior Brother Qi first!"

Lin Jinghong knitted his brows and was about to speak, but heard Qi Hao urging at his ear, "Junior brother Lin, if you stay here any longer, I fear you will only provoke Uncle Tian to ever greater fury, and only bring harm to Junior Brother Zhang. Go, go quickly!"

With that he dragged him away by force. Lin Jinghong struggled, but catching Zhang Qingyue's faintly pleading gaze, he wavered in his heart. After much pulling and tugging, Qi Hao finally managed with great effort to drag him off, and even as he was led away he kept turning back, step after step, to look toward where Zhang Qingyue stood.

Tian Buhui's face was incomparably grim, and the disciples of Dazhu Peak all looked at one another, not one of them daring to utter a word.

Zhang Qingyue walked silently to stand before him, knelt down, and bowed his head to the ground at his feet, and did not move.

Tian Buhui gave a cold laugh and said, "Ah! I would not dare accept such courtesy. And who might you be! With such lofty cultivation, such a murderous air—do you even still have me, your master, in your eyes?"