Chapter 83 — Ten Years
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 4 of 7
"How he is faring now..." Suddenly that mysterious man in the corner spoke again, his voice tinged with a faint, weathered weariness.
Zhou Yixuan turned and looked at the man seated in the shadows. "What, Brother—do you know?"
The man was silent a moment, then said slowly, "Naturally I know. Only, even if you once saw him with your own eyes, you would surely not recognize him now..."
Outside, the wind and rain swept across heaven and earth, seeming to howl ever more bitterly...
Kongsang Mountain, the Ten Thousand Bats Ancient Grotto.
Eight hundred years ago, the Demonic Sect's elder Heixin had founded here the age of glory of the Blood-Refining Hall lineage, commanding the Demonic Sect and overawing the world. But now the later disciples had proved unworthy; the place lay desolate and decayed, a pitiful ruin.
Yet beside that Nether Abyss hidden deep beneath the Ten Thousand Bats Ancient Grotto, the ground was now occupied by countless foes who had come upon them unawares.
By the great boulder carved with the three characters "Nether Abyss" in bold, flying ancient seal script, the last disciples of the Blood-Refining Hall lineage had gathered, their backs to the stone; a few steps farther back yawned the unfathomable darkness of the Nether Abyss.
And of their number, fewer than ten remained—Elder Nian, Liu Gao, the Wild Wolf Daoist and others among them—every one of them wounded, their faces drawn and fearful. On the ground before them lay dozens of corpses, strewn every which way; black-clad men, several times their number, had encircled them, and every one of those men wore a skull embroidered upon his breast.
Elder Nian drew a deep breath and forced his heart to steady itself. He began to speak, only to find that his voice had gone hoarse without his knowing when: "Fellow adherents of the Hall of the Nether King—we of the Blood-Refining Hall are but a small faction within the Holy Sect, and have never dared offend the Hall of the Nether King. I—I do not know just why the seniors of the Nether King would treat us so?"
"Hmph!" A cold snort came from amid the countless black-clad men, and one of them stepped forward—his breast-skull embroidered in gold, utterly unlike the others—plainly their leader. He said mildly, "Elder Nian, the situation within the Holy Sect is plain enough now. The Nether King, our sect master, has written to you several times, yet you remain a reed that bends with every wind—dealing with us today, bowing under the gate of the Longevity Hall tomorrow. Do you not hold the Nether King in your eyes at all?"
Elder Nian's face paled. He knew well that within the Holy Sect the infighting among the four great factions grew fiercer by the day, and every small faction must attach itself to one or another; reports came constantly of factions mysteriously annihilated. And now the Hall of the Nether King had come down upon them in force—the strength he had painstakingly built up in the Blood-Refining Hall over many years was all but wiped out at a stroke, and the situation before him was plain enough.
Sure enough, the black-clad man gave a cold laugh. "Elder Nian, I will say it to you once more: the Nether King, our sect master, is a man of great vision, and the unification of the Holy Sect is but a matter of days. It is because he thinks well of you that he would take the Blood-Refining Hall under his banner. Do not fail to know your betters."
By the end, his voice was heavy with menace.
Elder Nian's brow was slick with sweat. The situation was clear—his little Blood-Refining Hall could not withstand the Hall of the Nether King by any means—but was the foundation handed down by the founding masters to be destroyed in his own hands?
Such a resolve was truly hard to make!