Chapter 69 — The Past

Qinglong raised his head, glanced at the sky, and suddenly gave a cold laugh. "Duanmu and Baidu Zi and the rest of that lot—back then they fled from Canglan Mountain into the wilds, and before they even reached the Holy Hall they ran into Wan Jiangu and the other four and were sent scattering, not daring even to return to the Holy Hall. And just now they dared to shout and ask whether Wan Jiangu had come—what shamelessness!"

The Nether King smiled faintly. "They are no more than running dogs of that old monster in the Wandu Sect. Why should you be angry, Brother Long?"

Qinglong reached out and lightly brushed the white robe he wore, then said mildly, "Wan Jiangu's break into the Holy Hall was the greatest shame of our Holy Cult. For a hundred years I have cultivated bitterly, and at great risk I found the Qiankun Qingguang Ring, all so that one day I might contend with him again. Today I learn he has passed away, and my heart holds only disappointment and regret—yet these men speak shamelessly of digging up his grave and dragging out his corpse. I am ashamed to be counted among them!"

The Nether King shook his head with a smile and looked up to watch the battle. The light in the sky grew ever brighter, until the four figures were all but invisible; and the clouds that filled the heavens were now nearly all lit by the radiance of their treasures.

The vault of heaven was silent; only from the distant sea came those long howls, growing gradually more shrill.

The Nether King suddenly frowned, turned to Qinglong, and said, "Do you not think tonight's night has something strange about it?"

Qinglong looked up and was silent a moment; then his expression changed. "You mean..."

The Nether King nodded. "Legend says that whenever that strange beast appears in the world, heaven and earth change color and great wind and rain attend it. Thus the ancient scroll 'Records of Gods and Demons' notes that this creature is the mount of the Thunder God."

Qinglong's face grew grave. He frowned. "How could it be so ill-timed—tonight of all nights?"

The Nether King pondered a moment, then said, "I have been on Mount Liubo some days now, yet on previous nights there was never such a strange howling as tonight. I fear the Kui Ox truly means to appear tonight. It seems we must make ready early."

Qinglong nodded slowly. "Yes. The Kui Ox is the great matter, after all. Leave this place to the Wandu Sect lot. Heh—heh—once the Kui Ox is subdued, and with the other three spirit beasts, our..."

The Nether King suddenly coughed. Qinglong started, then laughed and shook his head. "A hundred years of bitter cultivation have addled my wits. Ha—hah—forgive me, Sect Master!"

The Nether King smiled faintly, turned, and walked away, not glancing back at the crowd still fighting fiercely on the field. Qinglong cast a glance into the distance, where the orthodox disciples were scattering and fading into the forest, their figures vanishing; something stirred faintly in his heart, and with a sigh he turned and followed the Nether King.

The dark night was soundless, yet in the darkness it seemed countless savage eyes watched hungrily. As the crowd ran, cries came from who knew where, rising faintly and echoing deep in the forest, mingled with that nameless mysterious howling from the distant sea.

This night seemed especially grim!

Zhang Qingyue, with Tian Lingsu, Song Dayi, He Dachuan, and Du Biyan—five in all—rode their treasures and flew swiftly forward through the forest. With their cultivation, it would naturally have been much faster to ride their treasures straight up into the blue sky; but just now, as they broke out of the demon cult's encirclement and were about to take flight, they saw several disciples of small sects rise into the air nearby, only for several savage streaks of light to burst suddenly from the dense forest below their feet and strike them down.

Those piteous screams—plainly they would not live.

Everyone paled. The forest here was dense with branches and leaves, and the night was deep, and demon cult followers were everywhere about; if they flew up and were discovered, they would be living targets.

Song Dayi, as the senior brother, had after all seen more of the world than his juniors; he made a prompt decision—they would fly swiftly among the trees. The woods here were dark, and though it was hard to spot the demon cult followers, neither could the enemy easily see them. If they flew straight east, once they were out of this forest and away from the demon cult's encirclement, they would be far safer.

His mind made up, the five flew east with all their strength.

Song Dayi led the way, Zhang Qingyue brought up the rear, focusing his mind as he rode his treasure, weaving through the forest. His chest still ached faintly, but the wound he had taken in the fight with the old blood-sucking demon was not so grave as he had feared; and from the Mystic Fire Mirror bound to his right arm, threads of warm primal yang qi came drifting from time to time, moving slowly through his body, as though it had a special power to restrain the old demon's strange blood-sucking **.

Yet though the Mystic Fire Mirror secretly checked the evil power of the blood-sucking **, as Zhang Qingyue now rode the Dark Iron Staff in flight, that strange icy chill coming from the staff seemed to clash with the Mystic Fire Mirror; within his body, the two alien energies repelled each other the moment they met. But after all, the Mystic Fire Mirror was not driven by Zhang Qingyue's own spiritual power, and so it was quickly suppressed by the cold qi of the Dark Iron Staff.

Zhang Qingyue's entire attention was fixed on following the senior brothers and sisters flying ahead of him, so naturally he did not notice these tiny changes within his body. Only in the intervals of flight did he happen to lift his head, and he saw black clouds at the horizon churning like boiling water, waves of radiant light piercing straight to the ninth heaven, reddening more than half the sky.

There, naturally, his master Tian Buhui and his martial uncle Daoist Cangyan were locked in magical combat with the demon cult's villains. He wondered whether the old man might come to harm.

At this thought, Zhang Qingyue shook his head at once, thinking to himself that with his master's cultivation so profound, surely nothing could happen; it was purely his own overthinking. Having silently laughed at his own excessive worry, Zhang Qingyue roused his spirits and was just about to quicken his pace a little more to catch up with the senior brothers and sisters ahead.

Ahead, the darkness was like a net without bound or edge, stretching endless and without margin. The five of them gradually drew far from those clamorous sounds of magical combat and sank into the darkness, until even their surroundings slowly fell quiet.

In the night, it seemed that only there, in the depths of the darkness ahead, over that sea drawing ever nearer to them, did that mysterious and shrill long cry grow ever clearer, ever closer. This chapter was posted by a web friend.

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