劍問蒼天 - 第37章 怪目 - 翰墨軒

Their cultivation was plainly a cut above the rest of the demonic cult, for they checked Qi Hao and the others at once — yet in their hearts both were crying out in bitterness.

The night before, they had spied on Qi Hao and his companions being set upon by the bats, and only then laid this ambush deep in the ancient cavern: to strike suddenly, shatter that seemingly impenetrable halo of the "Mirror," and then destroy the four Qingyun disciples one by one. The plan had indeed gone off as intended — but they had not reckoned that these Qingyun disciples would prove so unexpectedly formidable, so hard to handle.

For this ambush, the demonic cult's strength had been built around Daoist Wild Wolf, the tall man, and the bloodsucker Jiang the Third. They too had judged Zhang Qingyue the weakest of the four, and so agreed that the three of them would strike together, meaning to finish him swiftly before turning to deal with the other three. But matters had turned uncanny: Zhang Qingyue was wounded, true, yet Jiang the Third the bloodsucker had, for reasons no one could fathom, had his vital essence drained dry and died instead.

Now, though they held Qi Hao and Zeng Shuyan at bay for the moment, there remained that beautiful woman riding the strange blue sword; and the wretch behind them, wounded though he was, was greatly uncanny — should the two of them come on together, the situation would turn very bad indeed. After two more exchanges, they saw Lu Xueqi wound several cultists in succession and turn back toward them; Daoist Wild Wolf was the first to shout, "Run!"

The tall man beside him, of one mind with him, withdrew his magic treasure at the same instant, threw himself into flight, and with two whistling streaks the pair fled as two strange gleams deep into the cavern. Seeing this, the other cultists gave a cry and scattered in every direction.

Qi Hao decided on the instant and shouted, "After those two!" With that he rose on his sword and gave chase, Zeng Shuyan close behind. Lu Xueqi turned the blue light of Tianxuan, about to pursue, when something seemed to come to her; she was on the point of looking back when she saw Zhang Qingyue already risen into the air on the black iron staff, its dark-green radiance flickering, blood streaming from his shoulder — but the little dark-red fork that had been buried there was now pulled free.

Zhang Qingyue flew on ahead. Lu Xueqi watched his figure, and seemed for a moment to stand transfixed before she followed after.

This chase deep in the cavern was rather like that day years ago when Zhang Qingyue and Tian Lingsu had chased the monkey Xiao Hui through the back hills of Dazhu Peak — winding and strange, now veering left, now right, now shooting straight up into the sky, now plunging straight down to the depths, and further on splitting into branching passages; but the four of Canglan Sect paid no heed to any of it, keeping their eyes only on those two gleams ahead, one yellow and one gray, and following hard.

The cavern was jagged with grotesque rocks and towering crags. Zhang Qingyue kept close behind his companions, driving the black iron staff with all his concentration. Some passages narrowed until scarcely one man could squeeze through, and Zhang Qingyue had no time even to be afraid or to think; with a whistling rush he shot through them all the same. The chase, back and forth, resolved itself into six streaks of light in the darkness of the cavern, swift beyond belief; Zhang Qingyue felt only that the wild wind and the darkness were twined together, pouring ceaselessly against his face from ahead.

So they ran on for nearly half an hour more. Daoist Wild Wolf and his companion, relying on their knowledge of the terrain, twisted and turned, weaving left and right; they did not shake off those four relentless pursuers, but neither did the pursuers close the distance.