劍問蒼天 - 第19章 相逢 - 翰墨軒

The dozens ahead soon passed by. Zhang Qingyue and Lin Jinghong came down from the Rainbow Bridge to the edge of the Bishui Pool and made a respectful bow to the Water Qilin. But from the first the beast seemed to be sleeping especially deep; it gave no response to anyone's salute, and now lay head down in heavy slumber, snoring like thunder—ten to one it never knew that these two young Qingyun juniors were bowing to it.

Zhang Qingyue and Lin Jinghong had never expected the Water Qilin to pay them any heed. Their bow made, they climbed the steps. "Jinghong," said Zhang Qingyue, "last time you came to Dazhu Peak you were in such a hurry, I never got the chance to congratulate you. Who would have thought that in a few short years you'd have reached such a height of cultivation."

Lin Jinghong smiled. "That is all thanks to my master, the Perfected Cangsong, and my senior brothers' patient teaching." Here he paused, and his voice gradually sank. "In truth, for the first few years, whenever I set myself to cultivate, I would think of that heap of bloody corpses in Liumiao Village, and my heart would hurt so badly that I hardened myself and forced my practice on, hoping that one day I might avenge my parents and the people of the village."

A pang went through Zhang Qingyue's heart, and he reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. Lin Jinghong steadied himself, gathered his spirits, and broke into a smile. "Enough—no more talk of the past. And you? How goes your cultivation?"

Zhang Qingyue shook his head. "You know I was never as clever as you, even as a boy. All these years on Dazhu Peak, my master and my senior brothers have been more than good to me, but I am too dull; my progress in cultivation has been miserably slow. I have failed my master and my eldest senior brother badly."

Lin Jinghong gave a snort. "Dull? You? I'd say it's nine parts your pint-sized master deliberately making things hard for you, refusing to pass on the true cultivation methods of the Canglan Sect."

Zhang Qingyue had not expected that after that quarrel two years ago, Lin Jinghong should still be nursing a grudge against Tian Buhui. He laughed. "He wouldn't do that. My master is not that sort of man. Never mind me—tell me, is your magic treasure still that 'Dragon-Slaying Sword' from two years back?"

Lin Jinghong nodded and smiled. "That divine sword is the supreme treasure of the Dragon Peak meridian. My master was kind enough to entrust it to me; besides its tremendous power, the sword has a spirit of its own, and it is of great help to my cultivation."

Envy rose in Zhang Qingyue and showed plainly on his face. "That is the best of all."

Lin Jinghong smiled and asked in return, "And you, Xiaofan? Have you any magic treasure of your own?"

Zhang Qingyue froze for a moment, then instinctively reached into his robes and touched the blackened "Dark Iron Rod." A thread of coolness, faint as a whisper, crept into his palm.

"No," he said quietly. "My cultivation is not deep enough. I cannot yet wield a magic artifact."

Lin Jinghong did not seem to mind; he had clearly expected as much, and consoled him: "It is nothing, Xiaofan. So long as you cultivate diligently, you will surely succeed. We are young yet—let us simply treat this trip as a chance to see the world."

The corner of Zhang Qingyue's mouth twitched. He looked at his old friend's kindly face and listened to his gentle words, yet felt not the slightest comfort.

To see the world?

Everyone thought he had come here only to see the world. At the thought, an indescribable anger suddenly surged in his heart, blazing like a fire deep within him—yet in the next instant it scattered and was gone. He lowered his head and said nothing. He did not even have it in him to blame his friend, because he himself thought the very same thing.