Chapter 172 — Bloodthirst

Her face, white as snow, suddenly flushed; her body swayed faintly. At the moment her brows knitted slightly, at the moment she seemed about to grit her teeth and endure, she suddenly closed her eyes and bent low.

Tianxuan gave a faint ringing hiss and stood thrust into the ground; Lu Xueling, steadying herself on the hilt, spat out a small mouthful of blood, which splashed back across the autumn-water blade.

The blood slowly beaded into drops, clinging to Tianxuan's smooth blade, trembling faintly—then quietly slid away.

A wind from somewhere came wandering across the open ground before the Phantom Moon Cave, and in it there were a few soft whistling notes.

The black qi scattered entirely. Ming Li stood there impassive; Soul-Eater, shining with dark blue radiance, fell from the sky, and he reached out and caught it. Even as he turned his eyes toward Lu Xueling, Lin Jinghong had already drawn back and flashed to her side, putting the Slaying Immortals behind him.

Ming Li's gaze rested coldly on Lin Jinghong, then shifted to Lu Xueling's face. These two, now almost the most important people in the world to him, in his eyes were no different from strangers.

In this human world, in one lifetime—how many people can keep each other company to the end, unchanging through all their years?

He gritted his teeth, bared them; his smile was proud and aloof, resolute and defiant, and he strode fiercely forward. The ancient sword lay just ahead—though it were a bottomless abyss, he would charge it! Ten years of time, ten years of piercing agony—how could he cast it aside in a single day?

Lin Jinghong's face showed anger; the green light of Slaying Dragon rose again in his hand. But just then Lu Xueling suddenly straightened, and though her face looked paler still, her voice seemed as clear and moving as in the old days:

"Stop!"

Ming Li's body paused; he halted his steps, then gave Lu Xueling a deep look and said sternly, "Step aside!"

Lu Xueling's face held a desolate sorrow. "Hear me for once—go. Go, and never come back."

Lin Jinghong frowned and glanced at Lu Xueling, meaning to speak but holding back. Ming Li, hearing this, showed no sign of accepting her kindness; he sneered, "Let me destroy the Slaying Immortals, and I'll leave at once."

Lu Xueling shook her head wearily and said in a low voice, "I can't let you do that. The people from the front mountain will be here any moment. If you go now, it's not too late."

Ming Li and Lin Jinghong were both startled; they listened intently, and sure enough, from far off came a faint murmur of voices, seemingly a good many people, arguing and shouting about something.

In truth, on reflection, this was hardly strange. What a divine artifact the Slaying Immortals was to the Canglan Sect, its importance beyond compare; having searched the whole of the front-mountain battlefield without finding it, they would naturally turn to the back mountain. Never mind the back mountain—if they had to turn all of Canglan Mountain upside down, for the Slaying Immortals' sake, those disciples and grand-disciples of the Canglan Sect would likely be glad to do it.

The clamor in the distance gradually swelled, growing clearer and clearer; plainly the crowd was searching its way here. Ming Li's face grew cold; suddenly he gave a cold snort, and with a flicker of movement, he flew recklessly toward Lu Xueling and Lin Jinghong.

Lu Xueling's face paled with dismay, but before she could act, Lin Jinghong had already sprung up; Slaying Dragon gave a "wu" and stabbed through the air like tearing silk, blade-light blazing, near like a swimming dragon baring fangs and claws as it lunged at Ming Li.

Ming Li's face was grim; his form like a specter, he swept his left hand, and Soul-Eater flew out again—utterly disregarding the Slaying Dragon's might, striking straight at Lin Jinghong's skull. Lin Jinghong was taken aback; such a fierce, reckless style was more like his own way of fighting, and he had not expected Ming Li to turn it against him. Yet faced with such ferocious assault, the stubborn pride deep in Lin Jinghong's nature was stirred drop by drop; with a great shout, he too ignored Soul-Eater, and Slaying Dragon's thrust only gained force—plainly he meant to gamble with Ming Li and see whose nerve was the greater!

The two clashed at once in a struggle of life and death. Lu Xueling, watching, could not help but start; she stared, and a trace of worry rose unbidden in her eyes. But just as the two in the clearing seemed about to perish together, Ming Li's body suddenly swayed in place several times and scattered apart like black smoke, near like an illusion. Lin Jinghong could not check his momentum; his thrust struck empty air and carried him flying forward. Crying out inwardly in alarm, he turned in confusion to look—and saw the black figure, specter-like, appear behind him and fly toward Lu Xueling.

Such uncanny arts were naturally not among the doctrines of the Canglan Sect or the Brahma Sound Temple, nor had they been seen in the Demonic Cult. They were strange techniques Ming Li had slowly comprehended after reading the three volumes of the Heavenly Book, arts not meant for the eyes of the world. Tried today, they had indeed succeeded utterly—even a figure like Lin Jinghong had been fooled. Even in Lu Xueling's eyes there was a flicker of startled doubt.

Yet somehow, Ming Li, having used the Heavenly Book's strange art, seemed now altogether different from moments before—not the eerie, ghostly black qi that ordinary folk would imagine, but across his face green, gold, red, and crimson qi arose in turn, a look of faint pain upon him, while his form moved swift as wind, seeming to have advanced a level in cultivation beyond his former self.

Lu Xueling was startled and doubtful, yet she dimly understood. Unlike Lin Jinghong, years ago atop the divine tree in the great western marsh, within the "Celestial Emperor's Treasury," she and Ming Li had both seen the mysterious third volume of the Heavenly Book. With her gifts, no less than his—perhaps more—she had long since committed the Heavenly Book firmly to memory.

Strange and unfathomable as the Heavenly Book was, every line and word held profound truths such as the world rarely sees; those who cultivate the Way are born bewitched by such things. To say she had not studied it diligently all these years would be a lie. Yet such uncanny arts could not be spoken of to outsiders, and she had told no one; moreover, what she had seen was only the third volume, broken off before and after, and lacking above all the first volume, the Heavenly Book's general compendium, which left her with no place to begin, obscure and hard to fathom. All these years she had relied only on her own rare intelligence, forcing comprehension, gaining more or less some aid to her cultivation—though nothing marked. And it was precisely for this that the elders of the Canglan Sect had not noticed; otherwise, figures like Dao Yan Zhenren, Tian Buhui, and Master Shuijing—what manner of people were they?—how could they have failed to note the strangeness in Lu Xueling's cultivation?

But at this moment, watching Ming Li's uncanny movements, Lu Xueling frowned slightly. She saw him deceive Lin Jinghong, and then his body, as though bodiless, condensed out of winding black smoke in midair, swiftly reforming his true shape, his speed not diminished in the least as he flew straight at her.

Lu Xueling set her jaw; suddenly her body retreated three steps to the side, yielding up the Slaying Immortals that had stood close behind her, leaving it exposed before Ming Li. At this, both Ming Li and Lin Jinghong, some distance off, were startled—only Ming Li's face showed a trace of delight, while Lin Jinghong cried angrily, "Sister Lu, what are you doing?"