Chapter 127 — Heart's Intent

Xiaobai did not hesitate further. Clutching Ming Li, her form suddenly turned ghostlike and vanished from midair. The crowd was greatly startled; a moment later someone spotted the white shadow speeding like lightning toward the far bank of the river and shouted aloud.

Xiaobai darted into a wooden hut. Moments later, before the crowd could arrive, she flew out through the window—and on her shoulder, besides Ming Li, there was now a small grey shadow: the still soundly sleeping monkey, Xiao Hui...

By the time the crowd arrived, Xiaobai's figure had already vanished without a trace. The righteous cultivators cursed and raged, but most were secretly alarmed—this nine-tailed celestial fox's cultivation was so profound that she truly could not be underestimated.

At that very moment, the fighting in Qili Tong had finally died down completely; all that remained was a sea of roaring flames and the bitter weeping of countless Miao common folk.

In the distance, the wounded chieftain Tumagu was shouting at the top of his voice, leading a band of men racing up the mountain—clearly to check on the Great Wizard's injuries. And halfway up the slope, people had already gathered around the Great Wizard; cries came drifting from afar.

The crowd returned to the original spot. Everywhere around them the heat and flames roared; the crackling of fire devouring wood rose and fell without cease, and charred crossbeams kept crashing down—a scene of utter desolation.

Facheng shook his head with a sigh, his face full of compassion. He flew first into the sea of fire to help the Miao folk fight the flames. Moved by his example, the other disciples of Fenxia Valley followed one after another.

Only now did Li Xun feel the pain in his right hand ease somewhat. It seemed that so long as he circulated his power to resist it, there was no great harm; only then did he set his mind a little at ease and breathe a sigh of relief.

Just as he hesitated over whether to follow and help fight the fire, a voice suddenly came from behind him. "Brother Li."

Li Xun started and turned. Lu Xueling had sheathed Tianxuan and held it in her hand; her white robes still fluttered in the firelight. The blood-red handprint on her collar was all the more glaring—and she seemed in no mind to conceal it.

At this moment her face was cold as ever, gazing calmly at Li Xun.

Li Xun felt inexplicably ill at ease under her look. "What is it, Sister Lu?"

Lu Xueling regarded him in silence. After a long while she said slowly, "That wound on Ming Li's right shoulder—was it you who dealt it with the Jade Ruler?"

Li Xun's mouth suddenly went dry. After a moment he said frankly, "Yes."

The hand Lu Xueling used to grip Tianxuan tightened for an instant; across her fair skin, a faint bluish tinge seemed to surface. Yet her face remained white as snow and cold, without the slightest expression.

She gave a slight nod and turned to walk away.

Sudden, inexplicable anger rose in Li Xun's heart. "Sister Lu, what do you mean by that?"

Lu Xueling's steps paused. Beneath the blazing flames all around, her white figure seemed about to catch fire itself.

"Fine ruler technique! Truly formidable!"

The faint voice drifted over from the figure with her back turned, who had not looked back—word by word, very slow, very slow, and utterly clear.

Li Xun was suddenly struck mute.

Lu Xueling walked on. Suddenly, above her, a great hall that had burned too long gave a loud crack; a massive crossbeam wreathed in searing flame came crashing down upon her head.

Li Xun was startled, but before he could cry out, Lu Xueling gave a light cry—and in that cry there was, somehow, a note of grief and indignation. Her left hand swept up, and the divine sword Tianxuan, sheath and all, rose; blue light surged, and with a thunderous roar she smashed the giant timber to splinters, sending countless sparks flying up to blot out the sky and sun. A moment later they fell like rain—a spectacle of the utmost magnificence—falling between her and Li Xun, engulfing her figure from sight.

Li Xun gazed at that sky full of scattered fire-rain, and for a time stood stupefied, staring as if spellbound.

The night was deep.

Xiaobai, transformed into a swift white light, threaded her way through the towering mountains and steep ridges, far from Qili Tong. Only after roughly half an hour did she find a quiet spot on the mountainside of a high peak and come to a stop.

She gently set Ming Li down, laying him on the ground. The man was drenched in blood, much of it flowing to his hand, where the Blood-Devouring Pearl, glinting with an eerie red glow, slowly drew it in. Just now the pearl seemed like a malevolent spirit attached to Ming Li's body, ceaselessly devouring its master's vital essence.

Xiaobai sighed. She reached out to take the Soul-Devouring Demon Staff from Ming Li's hand, but though he was unconscious, he still gripped the staff tightly—as though this object alone were his only support.

Xiaobai tugged twice, but it would not come loose from his grasp. She shook her head and gave up.

Then her gaze fell upon her own hand. The middle and index fingers of her right hand, once white as jade, were now slowly turning red, and there was even a faint, involuntary trembling.

Xiaobai smiled and murmured, "What a Tianxuan—truly worthy of its name, a divine weapon indeed..."

"Plop." A sound suddenly came from beside her. Xiaobai started and looked over—it was the drunken Xiao Hui, tumbling from her shoulder and landing right beside his gravely wounded master. He smacked his lips twice, scratched his head, and actually fell back asleep.

Xiaobai was both exasperated and amused. "You wretched monkey!"

"Zzz... zzz..."

"Your fool of a master is about to die!"

"Zzz... zzz..."

"..." Xiaobai was speechless. She rolled her eyes at the monkey, kicked him away, then crouched down beside Ming Li, studied his wounds up and down, and shook her head with a sigh.

The night was cool as water, the chill creeping into the bone.

That chill—had he felt it once, years ago?

The thought drifted through Ming Li's mind as he woke slowly from the dark.

He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a sky full of starlight.

The night sky over the southern frontier—at this hour there was no more flame, no more clamor; at last it revealed the calm and peaceful face it had always kept. Across the vault of heaven countless stars hung scattered, glittering bright.

Some large, some small, they all vaguely resembled human eyes—perhaps a little mischievous, gazing down at the mortal world with such teasing.

A piercing pain burst from his right shoulder, and then ache spread through his whole body. Steadfast as he was, he could not help drawing a sharp breath.

"You're awake." A voice, calm but faintly tinged with concern, sounded beside him.

Ming Li turned his head and saw Xiao Bai's face.

He propped himself up to sit, but the movement pulled at his wound, and he could not help frowning.

Xiao Bai glanced at him. "You're badly hurt. You'd better rest first."

Ming Li looked down. The wound at his right shoulder had been bound with white cloth, and the smaller cuts elsewhere had plainly been tended as well. There was no one else here—so this was Xiao Bai's doing while he lay unconscious.

He said in a low voice, "You saved me, didn't you? Thank you."

Xiao Bai shrugged. "I didn't do much. Mostly it was your tough hide. Even I never thought you could survive a thing like that."

Ming Li gave a cold snort. Memories of the desperate battle in Qili Tong flashed through his mind, and suddenly a deep despondency came over him; he sat there dazed, unwilling to say a word.

Xiao Bai said leisurely, "Speaking of which, it's the Miao folk of Qili Tong who came off worst. Their homes burned, and countless of their people dead or wounded. Even that great sorcerer they worship like a god—I'd say his chances are slim..."

Ming Li's body suddenly trembled.