Chapter 95 — Night Talk
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 6
The burning fire before him was mirrored in Lin Jinghong's eyes, flickering. Slowly he said, "Whenever I close my eyes, I see the innocent villagers of Liumiao Village, butchered—and I see our brother Xiaofan, who has fallen into the demon path."
Crack! A sharp sound echoed softly through the deep night. Lin Jinghong snapped the branch in his hand once more, then slowly fed it to the fire.
The night was pitch-black, and the forest in the darkness seemed to roar soundlessly in the distant silence.
Facheng watched Lin Jinghong in silence. The young man beside the faint firelight looked, in that moment, somewhat solitary—and yet so stubborn.
After a while he withdrew his gaze and looked at the Reincarnation Pearl hovering gently in the air before him. Suddenly he said, "Do you still think of Zhang Qingyue, Junior Brother Zhang?"
Lin Jinghong did not answer, but his gaze turned cold as he looked at Facheng.
There was a faint pain in Facheng's eyes, but his voice remained calm. Slowly he said, "For these ten years he has belonged to the Demon Sect's Nether King Cult, and now holds the high post of Deputy Cult Master. All under heaven know that sooner or later he will be the Nether King Cult's next Cult Master."
Here he slowly turned his head to meet Lin Jinghong's gaze. The corner of his eye seemed to twitch, but he went on: "For these ten years he has killed without number, taken bloodthirsty delight in slaughter—even the Demon Sect calls him the Blood Young Master and no other name. The entire orthodox world regards him as a mortal threat..."
"Enough!" Lin Jinghong suddenly shouted. His jaw was clenched tight, and the veins stood out on the fist he held at his side.
Facheng gazed at him, yet still went on: "If one day you stood before him—what would you do?"
The night grew colder, as if the whole world were this cold and pitiless.
On Lin Jinghong's handsome face the firelight and golden radiance were softly mirrored. He slowly closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.
"He is my brother!" How long passed, no one could say; then in the midst of the silence Lin Jinghong spoke, with iron finality, without the slightest hesitation.
Facheng looked at him and said nothing.
Lin Jinghong slowly lowered his head, and his voice dropped as well. "I know. He has sunk into the demon path now and cannot turn back. When I next meet him, it will most likely be as an enemy sworn to mutual destruction..."
Crack! He snapped the third branch, then slowly laid it on the fire. Quietly he said, "But whether we fight to the death or stand as sworn enemies, I do not care what you elders of the orthodox path think. In my heart—even if the orthodox and the demonic can never coexist and a battle is inevitable, whether he means to kill me or I mean to kill him—I will still treat him as my brother."
He smiled faintly, with a trace of bitterness and resolve, and said softly, "He is the only brother I will have in this life!"
No one spoke.
The ancient forest grew ever quieter. In the cold wind, it was as if someone were sighing softly up in the treetops, at the far edge of the sky...
Suddenly Zeng Shuyan opened his eyes, rolled over, and sat up, his brows knit as if straining to listen. It gave Facheng and Lin Jinghong quite a start.
Lin Jinghong asked in surprise, "Senior Brother Zeng, what is it?"
Zeng Shuyan's face was grave. "Something is wrong. Listen!"
Facheng and Lin Jinghong were both startled. Absorbed in their talk, they had paid no heed to their surroundings; now they quickly looked about and strained their ears.
In the forest, apart from the wind's continuing moan, all seemed still—no movement at all. But moments later they frowned at the same time. From the distance came a faint yet dense rustling, like a hundred insects on the march by night. Though the darkness hid it from sight and the sound seemed very far away, that fine, fine rustling somehow raised the hairs on the back of one's neck.