Chapter 28 — Perseverance
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 6
"Yes!"
Thunderous applause. Beneath the platform of the "Qian" position, it was an entirely different world. Everyone was shouting at the top of their voices, utterly captivated by those two beautiful figures on the stage.
The amber-red silk radiated ten thousand beams of rosy light, the Tianxuan divine sword poured out endless blue brilliance; together they cast the place into a semblance of fairyland, uncommonly beautiful. Yet more beautiful still were the two young women flitting to and fro—this contest had begun in the morning and lasted until now, a full hour gone, and still neither side had gained the upper hand. Tian Lingsu of Dazhu Peak especially, pressing her attack and holding her defense beneath Lu Xueqi's Tianxuan divine sword for so long without showing the slightest sign of defeat, filled everyone with astonishment.
Below the stage, to say nothing of the senior masters of both factions—Tian Buhui, Su Wan, Master Shuijing, and the rest—even the sect leader, Daoyan Zhenren, sat in his chair watching the splendid contest, a smile upon his lips as he nodded again and again, deeply gratified.
Tian Buhui and Su Wan, bound by blood to their daughter, were all the more anxious; yet seeing Tian Lingsu's magic so nimble and fluent, not falling behind in the least, their hearts eased somewhat. Tian Buhui glanced at his wife beside him, saw her tense expression, and said softly: "Relax a little—Ling'er will be fine."
Su Wan turned and looked at her husband, smiled faintly, then turned her eyes back to the stage. Tian Buhui shook his head slightly—when suddenly he felt a stir among the disciples crowding behind him, and even among the disciples of the other peaks farther off.
He turned to look, and in that instant, deep as his cultivation was, he too was struck dumb.
Through a narrow corridor the crowd had opened of its own accord, Zhang Qingyue came slowly walking. Every stitch of his clothing was scorched through, and in places still gave off thin wisps of smoke; great blackened patches covered his face, his hands, his body, and a sharp stench came with him. Everyone could see how bitterly hard he struggled to walk, as though each step drained the last of his strength—yet for some reason he still pressed stubbornly onward, step by step.
Tian Buhui watched his youngest disciple come slowly toward him thus, without a word; his short, stout body rose from the seat. Su Wan sensed something, gave her husband a puzzled glance, then saw something was amiss, followed his gaze—and her face went white; at once she too stood up.
By now, more and more people were looking their way.
Zhang Qingyue came to a stop before Tian Buhui. Tian Buhui looked at this disciple he ordinarily neglected most, looked at that incomprehensible stubbornness of his, and suddenly a fury he could not restrain surged up in his heart—so fierce that though he tried hard to suppress it, everyone still heard the anger in his voice: "Old Seven, which wretch wounded you like this? Was winning not enough for them?"
Su Wan's body gave a start. She heard that her husband had flown into a genuine rage for this little disciple he had once looked down upon, and she grew worried; she tugged at Tian Buhui—but her eyes at once fell back upon Zhang Qingyue.
On either side, the disciples of Dazhu Peak stood frozen where they were, too stunned to remember to help their young junior brother.
On the stage, Lu Xueqi and Tian Lingsu fought on in full fury, their magical treasures flying back and forth through the air, a solemn immortal aura about them.
Zhang Qingyue cast one deep look at the stage, then turned to the master before him, saw the wrath upon that fat face—and, it seemed, some faint trace of concern, there and yet not there.
Exhausted, he shook his head and said in a low voice: "No, Master. I won."
With that, he felt a wave of dizziness in his head; in an instant heaven and earth went dark, and with a thud he fell to the ground and knew no more.