Chapter 80 — The Eighth Chapter
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 7
The brilliant light from the direction of the Illusion Moon Cave grew ever more radiant and dazzling, and with it came a faint, low, unearthly wail.
The withered old man standing before the Ancestral Hall gazed at that dazzling radiance, lost in a silent daze, until Lin Jinghong, still astonished, asked him, "Senior, is that the ancient sword that is the Canglan Sect's supreme treasure—the Immortal-Slayer?"
The old man nodded silently, then suddenly turned away, as if he wished to pay no more heed to anything, and said in a low voice, "Once the Immortal-Slayer is drawn, and here upon Mount Canglan besides, with Daoist Daoyan's cultivation and attainments, none in the world can withstand it. Go now!" As he spoke, half his body had already sunk into the shadows of the hall.
Lin Jinghong felt a sudden reluctance to leave and called out, "Senior!"
The old man paused, as if something else had occurred to him, and said abruptly, "If you are so inclined one day, find a chance to seek out Daoyan privately and tell him that the servant in the Ancestral Hall, having been stifled for over a hundred years, now wishes you to come and talk with him from time to time—and see whether he agrees."
Lin Jinghong was taken aback and asked in wonder, "What?"
But the old man did not answer him; his body vanished wholly into the darkness.
Lin Jinghong stood dazed for a moment, then turned to look, and saw that in that brief space the pillar of light had grown brighter still, almost too bright to look upon. At the same time, he remembered that Zhang Qingyue was still outside, and at once ran out.
At a run, he soon returned to the place where he had been. Lin Jinghong looked toward the field and his body gave a shudder; he drew in a sharp breath. There at the three-way crossroads stood two figures still—Zhang Qingyue was there, but the other was Xueqi of Little Bamboo Peak. What shocked him most, however, was that the open ground all around was unmistakably stained with blood, and even the branches and leaves of the nearby trees were splashed with it, as though this were a scene from hell.
And the man in black who had but now faced Zhang Qingyue lay dead upon the ground, he knew not since when, his whole corpse withered and pale, as if every drop of blood in his body had been drained away.
A sense of foreboding rose in Lin Jinghong's heart. He ran at once toward Zhang Qingyue and cried loudly, "Xiaofan, are you all right?"
From the moment Lin Jinghong appeared until now, Zhang Qingyue had not once turned to look at him, but had kept facing Xueqi directly. Yet of these two, whose relations had always been delicate, Xueqi now had the Divine Sword Tianya drawn in her hand, on full guard against Zhang Qingyue.
Lin Jinghong had always regarded Zhang Qingyue as a brother. Seeing now that Xueqi seemed about to do him harm, he flew into a rage. "Sister Xueqi, what are you doing?"
With that he placed himself in front of Zhang Qingyue, facing Xueqi.
Xueqi's expression had been complex enough already—something like shock and anger, something like bitter grief, and in her eyes a measure of sorrow besides. Now, seeing Lin Jinghong suddenly thrust himself between them, she could not help crying out, "You—"
At almost the same instant, a bloodstained hand was laid upon Lin Jinghong's shoulder, staining a patch of his white robe red. The rank smell of fresh blood drifted from that hand and crept into Lin Jinghong's nostrils.
Startled, Lin Jinghong whipped around and said in alarm, "Xiaofan, are you all right?"
What met his eyes was a gaze shot through with a faint dark-red glow and flickering with traces of pain. Zhang Qingyue's face was wooden; his lips moved, and at last the red light dimmed. He said in a low voice, "I'm fine."
Only then did Lin Jinghong breathe easy. He said, "Good. The sect master will likely be coming out any moment now—we must be ready to follow him and fight our way back!"