劍問蒼天 - 第53章 異獸 - 翰墨軒

But the tentacles in the darkness were not only enormous but surprisingly nimble. As Zhang Qingyue fled for his life, he heard the wind howling close behind him, almost at his back, and his heart and courage nearly failed. At the critical moment of life and death, he shut his eyes, gave a great cry, and desperately drove the Dark Iron Staff forward, seeking only to get as far as possible from that death-dealing tentacle.

But under the force of his frantic flight, though the Dark Iron Staff's speed surged, the stone wall ahead gave no quarter. He had not flown three zhang when—"boom!"—he crashed into the wall again.

This time, however, something seemed odd. The stone wall there appeared rather thin, and under the impact he burst straight through it, and from within came traces of light—and waves of searing heat rolling out.

Zhang Qingyue was startled, but before he could collect himself (in truth, there was no collecting himself—no matter how hard his head, no matter how strong the artifact's protection, such a crash would leave anyone upside down and reeling), he felt the ground vanish beneath him, and his whole body dropped into a narrow, downward-sloping passage, rolling headlong down.

How long he rolled, he did not know. But along the way, in his confusion, Zhang Qingyue felt all around him a crimson light, and the heat was scorching, the surfaces he touched burning hot. Several times he struck his wounds, and the pain sent stars bursting before his eyes.

In truth, if one were honest, Zhang Qingyue's endurance by now likely made him more stone than Shitou, who was even then fighting outside.

At last his tumbling body came to a stop. Blood at the corner of his mouth, his face covered in cuts, his whole body feeling as though it would fall apart, Zhang Qingyue slowly raised his head amid his groans.

And then he froze.

Before him lay an enormous subterranean cavern—but unlike anything before. Everywhere was magma, blazing red-hot, forming a scorching lake that filled the lower reaches of the cavern. Across its surface, bubbles of heat rose and burst without cease; in the more turbulent places, like the tide, the searing magma leapt up even into the air. And the red-hot flames rising from the magma bathed the vast cavern in a world of red.

As for Zhang Qingyue himself, he stood on a platform above the magma lake, with a passage sloping upward behind him—the very passage down which he had rolled. Directly ahead, at the far end of the platform, where the heat of the magma was nearly unbearable, was an oval-shaped stone hollow, and upon it lay a white fox, perfectly still.

White—an enormous white fox!

Its eyes were closed, as though it slept in peace, its body curled up, utterly quiet.

Very beautiful indeed!

Zhang Qingyue rose slowly to his feet, held his breath, and began to walk slowly toward it.

Slowly, step by step, he went toward it.

The heat grew more scorching, burning Zhang Qingyue's face crimson, yet he seemed wholly unaware of it. His wide-open eyes were fixed only on that lovely, beautiful, gentle, quiet fox, and on what lay behind it.

There, amid the handsome fur, its tail lay quietly curled.

Fine and beautiful was that fur, and where it split, though in harmony, there were six tails in all.