Chapter 92 — Dead End
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 7
His one remaining hand tightened on the Yinyang Mirror.
The wind was cold to the bone, blowing against his body as if the chill had reached his heart.
From deep within the darkness, the sound of footsteps gradually arose.
"Pat. Pat. Pat..."
"Sha. Sha. Sha..."
"Hua. Hua. Hua..."
As if each keeping its own separate rhythm, yet all at once, from three directions, soft and even footfalls converged toward the Changsheng Hall.
For the first time, a trace of despair appeared on Yuyang Zi's face. Suddenly he bellowed, "Beasts! Show yourselves!"
The shout was powerful, though faintly lacking in inner strength, yet it still carried far across the marsh. It startled the distant Changsheng Hall disciples from their sleep; with cries of alarm they scrambled up and quickly gathered together.
Yuyang Zi's face darkened and cleared by turns, his heart sinking steadily. He looked back and to either side, then suddenly started and cried out, "Where is Meng Ji? Where has he gone?"
The Changsheng Hall people looked at one another, and for a long moment not a single one answered—clearly none of them knew.
Rage surged in Yuyang Zi's chest, and his head swam; he nearly spat out another mouthful of blood.
Just then, a calm male voice came from the darkness, saying gently, "Martial Uncle Yuyang Zi, is this the man you were looking for?"
With a "whump," something flew out of the darkness directly ahead of the Changsheng Hall, traced an arc through the air, and landed before Yuyang Zi and the Changsheng Hall disciples, rolling a few times.
Someone nearby had already lit a torch. In its light, a cry of horror went up—this was the severed head of Meng Ji, who had stood here speaking with them only moments before. His eyes were wide open, and in them was written utter terror; he had surely died with his eyes unclosed.
Yuyang Zi drew a deep breath. He moved his gaze from the head of his last capable subordinate and fixed it on the darkness ahead. Coldly he said, "Qin Wujiu?"
A young man slowly stepped forward. His face was somewhat pale, but he wore a gentle smile. "Martial Uncle, your eyes are indeed extraordinary. I stood in the shadows, and yet you could recognize me. Admirable, admirable!"
Yuyang Zi's expression could not have been uglier. Coldly he said, "You are ruthless indeed. But for the Wan Du Sect to treat a fellow sect of the Holy Cult this way—is your old master, that venomous wretch, not afraid that after death the Heaven-Slaughtering Ming Wang will cast him down into the underworld?"
"Ah!" Qin Wujiu pressed a hand to his chest in a show of fright, yet his face remained mild and smiling, without the slightest trace of fear. He turned to one side and said, "Fairy Jin, such a grave accusation—our Wan Du Sect would not dare shoulder it alone. Will you not come out?"
Yuyang Zi's face changed drastically. He whirled around, and there in the darkness to his left a woman of graceful bearing indeed came slowly walking out, her brows and eyes full of charm. In that dark night, the moment she stepped forth, it was as if the place had grown brighter.
"Jin Pingyue!"
Yuyang Zi ground out those three words through clenched teeth.
Jin Pingyue smiled sweetly. "Martial Uncle Yuyang Zi, it has been a long while. Have you been well?"
That greeting was several degrees more venomous than the most vicious curse. Yuyang Zi stared hard at her and said in a frigid voice, "My Changsheng Hall has always kept to its own waters and never crossed the Enchantress Sect. Why would you join with these Wan Du Sect creatures to kick a man already down?"