Chapter 27 — Self-Esteem
劍問蒼天 · Page 8 of 8
Zhang Qingyue's heart raced despite himself; even at the thought of what he was about to face, he trembled slightly with tension. But he clenched his jaw, controlled himself with all his might, and drew from his bosom that black rod of dark iron.
From below the platform came a burst of shrill laughter.
Zhang Qingyue started as though pricked by a needle.
Peng Chang, facing him, did not laugh. He glanced at the black rod of dark iron and said gravely: "Junior Brother Zhang, begin!"
Zhang Qingyue looked at his opponent. Behind that burning flame, Peng Chang stood like an ancient fire god, wholly transformed; the blazing fire sent wisps of smoke drifting through the air, blurring even his face.
Gripping the black rod tightly, Zhang Qingyue felt once more that sensation of flesh and blood joined, as though the rod knew its master's heart; that icy coolness boiled up once again.
The black, ugly rod of dark iron slowly rose into the air, leaving his palm, scattering a dark blue-green light. Ugly it was, and faint, yet as it hung there in midair, facing that mighty flame before it—a flame that seemed irresistible, all-powerful—it, and its master, showed not the slightest thought of retreat.
One man, one rod of dark iron, facing the whole world!
Below the platform, the laughter slowly subsided; the people held their breath, none knowing why.
That great mass of flame grew ever more violent; none could tell what it burned to blaze so fiercely. The Fenghui Peak disciples far below felt the scorching heat press upon them, and the weaker ones among them even fell back. Some who knew better, like Senior Brother Gao, changed countenance—anyone could see that Peng Chang was in no mind to show mercy now; he was fighting with all his strength, as though for life and death.
The fire-dragon grew larger still, its claws and fangs all but covering the air above the platform. Seen from afar, Zhang Qingyue standing there—his clothes, his trousers, even the tips of his hair and brows—seemed on the verge of being scorched; one could well imagine what it must feel like to stand within a furnace, and the thought made the flesh creep.
Yet the youth stood there, pain on his face but no retreat, fear in his eyes but such fervor—the flame in the depths of his heart seemed to burn in his gaze as well.
With a shriek, the vast fire-dragon lunged, devouring all beneath heaven.
It seemed a single instant, yet it froze a lifetime.
Zhang Qingyue threw back his head and let out a long cry; the dark iron rod, its blue-green light unwavering, plunged into the flame.
A great roar and a shrill scream rang through the blazing fire, deafening.
Below the platform, Senior Brother Gao and the others looked at one another; after a long moment, they stamped their feet and sighed: "How did it come to this!"