Chapter 79 — Seven

Before Lin Jinghong's gaping eyes, and amid the terrified gazes of the crowd, the Demonic Cult man was split clean in two from head to foot, blood spraying like rain. And scarcely pausing, amid that rain of gore, the green radiance—now almost demonic—whirled about and rushed at the other two.

The flying sword and the White Bone Sword, which had been attacking the old man, were now struck with utter terror; how would they dare press the attack? They fled backward at once, frantically summoning their treasures. But the Dragon-Slaying Sword, its keen radiance filling the sky, was upon them in a twinkling, and before everyone's eyes it crashed straight into them.

There was scarcely even a cry of alarm; the green radiance swallowed the two whole, and in an instant a burst of shattering sounds arose—what, exactly, befell those two, no one could tell.

Cold sweat streamed down Lin Jinghong's face; his senses nearly deserted him!

Zhou Yin, standing farthest off, turned ashen, knowing this old man was truly a terrifying master before whom he was no match. He wheeled at once and fled.

But the green radiance came on like the roar of mountains and the surge of the tide, mingled now with a crimson stain of blood, streaking like lightning in hot pursuit.

Zhou Yin's cultivation was, after all, somewhat higher than the others'. His hand suddenly flicked, and a wisp of black qi flickered faintly into view—and the sky-filling green radiance actually paused for a moment before him.

The next instant, Zhou Yin's face changed, and he cried out, "It's you! You are Wan—"

Before the words were out, the mountain-like green radiance that filled the space between heaven and earth bore down and crushed the black qi he struggled to sustain, then came cleaving down upon him, striking Zhou Yin full in the chest.

With a miserable scream, Zhou Yin was sent flying far away, and by the look of him he would not live.

In but a few moments, the four Demonic Cult followers who had strutted so proudly a moment before were all dead.

The sky-filling emerald radiance suddenly drew back like a great whale sucking in water, gathering into the Dragon-Slaying Sword, which flew back to the old man's hand.

Lin Jinghong's mouth fell slightly open, but no words came.

The old man shook his head slightly, as though sighing to himself over something, then cast one last deep look at the Dragon-Slaying Sword in his hand, and tossed it to Lin Jinghong.

Lin Jinghong caught it by reflex, and heard the old man turn back toward the Ancestral Hall, saying slowly as he walked, "The Dragon-Slaying Sword was forged from ten thousand years' green crystal taken from the bitterest reaches of the southern frontier, and has slain countless villains and evildoers. To wield this sword, one must press ever forward, making attack one's defense; even if one's cultivation is insufficient, one must be resolved to cut down every strong foe without exception—only so can its divine power be unleashed. You would do well to remember this!"

Lin Jinghong was taken aback, but seeing the old man about to enter the Ancestral Hall, he suddenly came to himself and said urgently, "Senior! Today the Demonic Cult has come in force against Qingyun—I beg you, you must lend your hand!"

The old man's steps paused for a moment, but he did not turn around. He only said mildly, "The Canglan Sect has masters as numerous as the clouds, and Sect Master Daoyan is a rare genius of the age, unmatched in this world. With him present, what is there to fear?"

Lin Jinghong stepped forward and cried out in grief, "But—but the Sect Master has already been gravely wounded!"

The old man was plainly startled; he whirled about and said, "Who could have wounded Daoyan?"

Lin Jinghong suddenly fell silent. He knew, of course, who the culprit was—but now, to speak the name of Daoist Cangyan, some inexplicable sorrow rose in him, as though once the name was spoken, something between him and that man would be broken forever. For a moment he could not bring himself to speak!

But the old man pressed on: "And Daoyan? How is he now?"

Lin Jinghong said, "The Sect Master is badly hurt, but for some reason he has gone into the Phantom Moon Cave."

"The Phantom Moon Cave!" The old man's face suddenly grew calm and still. After a long while, he spoke to Lin Jinghong—or rather, more to himself—with a faint sigh: "The Canglan Sect has stood a thousand years as a great power. What are you afraid of?"

So saying, the old man slowly turned again. Lin Jinghong went pale and cried in alarm, "Senior! Will you stand by and do nothing while Qingyun falls into peril?"

The old man gave what seemed a somewhat desolate smile and said, "Young man, the Canglan Sect has stood for close upon two thousand years. Its hidden strength is far beyond anything you could know! Set your mind at ease."

Lin Jinghong did not understand, and was about to plead again, when he suddenly felt the Dragon-Slaying Sword, quiet in his hand until now, grow hot along its whole length, as though provoked by something—and once more the green radiance blazed forth.

Lin Jinghong stared at the Dragon-Slaying Sword in his hand, astonished, when a sudden feeling came over him. He turned to look toward the direction of the Illusory Moon Cavern, and there, among the mountain peaks, a brilliant shaft of light shot straight up into the heavens, while the Dragon-Slaying Sword in his grasp seemed to be aimed at that very place, giving a low, faint hum.

"It has emerged! It has finally emerged!"

The old man, who at some point had also turned his gaze there, wore a face heavy with the complex expressions of a life's vicissitudes, and said softly, "Child, you are very fortunate. Soon you will witness that legendary ancient sword, the Immortal-Slayer!"