劍問蒼天 - 第59章 戾氣 - 翰墨軒

The wild dog seized his chance and hurriedly burst out of the amber-red silk's encirclement. No sooner had his figure darted clear than a thunderous roar sounded, and the sky full of red silk came crashing shut—had he still been inside, would he not have been crushed to powder?

The wild dog could not help but stick out his long tongue and say: "What a vicious wench!"

Tian Lingsu was beside herself with fury; her face, originally snow-white, had flushed deep red. Without another word she raised the amber-red silk into the wind, and it flew swift as lightning, charging once more at the wild-wolf Daoist.

The wild dog, badly frightened, clutched his head and ran. When the demon cultists saw him come fleeing back, a storm of jeers arose—and then, suddenly, no one knew who gave the lead, but with a *hu hu* of rushing air they rose on clouds and mist and flew off one after another, not a single one of them staying to help.

In the blink of an eye the only demon cult figures left in the field were the company of the Blood-Refining Hall. Elder Nian watched from where he stood, his face grim and his heart full of bitter hatred, but in the end he knew this was no place to linger. Thereupon the Red Demon Eye flashed red light again and again, forcing Fazhong back several zhang; he drew himself up, beckoned to his people, and fled as well.

Tian Lingsu wanted to give chase, but from behind came her father Tian Buhui's clear voice: "Ling'er, do not pursue them."

Tian Lingsu halted her steps by main force, her face still flushed, and turned to Tian Buhui: "Father, you heard what that villain said—"

Tian Buhui smiled, but Su Wan stepped forward and drew her aside, saying gently: "Those demon cult villains will stoop to any wickedness; what does it matter if they utter a few coarse words? We need only pretend we did not hear them."

At this most of the orthodox cultivators echoed her, saying one after another: "Quite so, quite so."

"Miss Tian need not take it to heart."

Only then did Tian Lingsu come down, still sulking. Seeing the demon cult villains dispersed, most of the orthodox cultivators dispersed as well; these days they were forever fighting the demon cult thus—fight, scatter, scatter, and fight again.

Zhang Qingyue was just about to go up and speak to Senior Sister Ling'er when his shoulder was suddenly clapped. He turned, and for a moment stood frozen, then his face lit with delight. There stood Lin Jinghong behind him, his face full of joy. After so long apart, he wore white robes, the Dragon-Slaying Sword slung aslant across his back, with sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, handsome and refined—truly one who stood out from the crowd.

This was, in fact, the first time Zhang Qingyue had seen this childhood companion since the great Sevenfold Assembly Tournament. In these days of drifting through the jianghu, at every crisis of life and death, Lin Jinghong's figure had more than once flashed through his mind.

Lin Jinghong looked at him for a good while, his face first joyful, then overcome with emotion; suddenly he rushed forward and embraced Zhang Qingyue tightly, unwilling to let go, and only after a long while did he release him. Zhang Qingyue was just as stirred, and he saw that there seemed to be a glimmer of tears in Lin Jinghong's eyes.

"Xiaofan!" As soon as Lin Jinghong spoke, his voice seemed to choke; the hand gripping Zhang Qingyue's shoulder pressed harder and harder, until it nearly hurt.

But Zhang Qingyue paid it no mind at all. Seeing Lin Jinghong, it seemed to him that the fear and despair he had known on the edge of life and death these past days could be understood by this brother alone. Only before this brother could he truly relax himself.

Lin Jinghong held him tightly and said in a low voice: "Xiaofan, I—I—I thought I would never see you again..." Here his feelings grew too stirred, his lips trembled slightly, and he could not go on.