Chapter 78 — Six
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 6 of 8
Daoist Daoyan sighed and shook his head slightly, but said nothing, and walked on.
They had not gone far when from behind them, in the Yuheng Hall, came thunderous crashes like rolling thunder, and several beams of light like pillars of a mountain shot up into the sky—bursting through the roof of the Yuheng Hall itself and soaring upward—mingled with several wretched screams, though none could tell whose lives were lost.
The faces of all changed. Needless to say, the fierce battle now raging in the Yuheng Hall was cruel beyond measure, and each of them could not but fear for their masters and fellows. Daoist Daoyan gazed deeply toward that place, his face drawn tight, then suddenly flung out his Daoist robe and strode away.
The young disciples followed behind him, and saw that this figure they had revered as a god all their lives still bore himself as straight and tall as ever; yet upon his dark green Daoist robe, the patch where blood had soaked through and dried to black was shocking to behold—and even the sword hole left by Daoist Cangyan's treacherous strike could be seen with perfect clarity.
How Daoist Daoyan could still hold himself upright after wounds of such severity, truly none could say.
The party passed through the rear hall. Among the young disciples none was of the senior lineage, so none had ever been here before; they simply followed Daoist Daoyan through halls and courtyards, and by degrees the clamor of the Yuheng Hall faded far behind them. They passed through the rear hall of the Yuheng Hall and headed toward the back mountain of the Jietian Peak.
Daoist Daoyan walked at the head, the others close behind, keeping wary watch on every side. Though most of the Demonic Cult host was even now assaulting the front mountain, there was no telling whether some among them might not have been led by Daoist Cangyan around to the rear.
Zhang Qingyue walked at the rear, his eyes faintly red, his face without expression—but deep within, it was as though monstrous waves were crashing. He was shaken by the great calamity that had befallen the Canglan Sect, and torn by the blood feud of years gone by. Though he had never seen with his own eyes who had slaughtered the villagers of the Liumiao Village, whenever he recalled that day's scene, he thought always of that fierce and mysterious man in black.
And now it seemed most likely that it was none other than Daoist Cangyan!
Two had survived the destruction of the Liumiao Village, but only Zhang Qingyue had seen that man in black do battle with Puzhao. Now that his suspicion had hardened into certainty, the hatred of many years surged up in his heart; and the black iron staff in his hand, forged from the world's two great murderous relics, Bloodeater and Soulthief, stirred by its master's hatred and murderous intent, at once let the long-buried baleful essence rise up within it—which in turn worked all the more upon Zhang Qingyue.
On any ordinary day, not to speak of one of Daoist Daoyan's attainment, even Tian Buhui would long since have seen that something was wrong with Zhang Qingyue. But who at such a moment could spare a thought for him? None knew that this humble disciple of the Canglan Sect stood at a critical juncture of the spirit, in an agonizing war between Heaven and man; a single misstep, and he would be tainted by the deep demonic malevolence of Bloodeater and Soulthief—lost beyond all redemption!
And so it proved: the fears of Tian Buhui, Shuiyue, and the others had not been groundless—though the back-mountain path of the Jietian Peak was secluded, they had gone no great distance when several Demonic Cult followers burst out from both sides, and Qi Hao and the others at once stepped forward to meet them.