Chapter 105 — Sword Dance
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 5
The wind was so fierce it rushed into her embrace as if to tear her apart, and the darkness at her feet suddenly stirred to life, reaching out dark hands from some unknown place to entwine her body and drag her down into the abyss.
Yet she seemed entranced, merely gazing in silence. The wind buffeted her body, so frail and fragile now, like a lily blooming in the darkness.
The night was deep.
That nameless chill seeped into every inch of her skin; only her mind, only her thoughts suddenly burned hot, and the tenderness hidden deep in her heart burst forth all at once like a blazing flame, then congealed into
a single face.
"*Clang—*"
A sharp ringing sound suddenly broke the night and echoed far away.
The divine sword Tianxuan left its sheath, bursting into brilliant radiance in the darkness. The white figure rose with it, catching Tianxuan in midair; the keen mountain wind swept up abruptly, and with that white figure upon the Moon-Viewing Terrace began a sword dance of beauty unrivaled in this world.
Autumn water fell from the endless sky and became a boundless Milky Way, winding and wheeling in slender white hands, flowing joyously through the night. Now it soared to the heavens, now it descended to earth; now it became a silver garment of streaming light, enamored of that peerless face; now it scattered into a sky full of stars, glittering bright.
There upon the Moon-Viewing Terrace Lu Xueling bit her lip hard and closed her eyes; her body seemed to drift with the wind, like catkins, like a cold flower, dancing out a figure of desolate beauty such as the world had never seen.
She became a floating white gleam, spending all her strength. Her face was so pale, and faint beads of sweat seemed to show upon it, yet she would not stop—perhaps only when the body is weary can all else be forgotten!
So she danced, and danced; that figure in the night, so faint and so lovely...
"*Ding!*"
With a light, crisp sound, the divine sword Tianxuan slowly slipped from her hand. Its keen edge, paying no heed to the hard rock, pierced the stone as silently and effortlessly as though into snow.
The brilliant, beautiful white figure slowly sank low, and the darkness quietly rose over her.
Who was it in the darkness, breathing faint and low?
There were drops of water, falling softly onto the stone—perhaps the sweat of exhaustion?
She panted softly, softly, then gradually grew calm; she lifted her eyes, and there was a faint bewilderment in them.
Somehow she had danced her way to the rear of the Moon-Viewing Terrace. Before her stood a bamboo grove—slender, gentle Tear Bamboo.
In the faint glow, the tearstains, spot upon spot, were like a woman heartbroken.
She stared at them blankly, then suddenly laughed aloud—a silent laugh, with something of bitterness in it—and then, heedless of the dust on the ground and of her spotless white garments, she sat down with her back against the Tear Bamboo.
She lifted her head and gazed at the sky!
The vault of heaven was boundless...
The night wind blew, and there seemed to be a faint, familiar scent upon it.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.
So it was that after weariness, that face in her heart had only grown more deeply graven.
The past, drop by drop, seemed carved into her heart, never to be erased again.
Like that day outside the Heaven Emperor's Treasure House, when he had rashly seized her hand and pulled her to safety, forgetting his own peril entirely.
Her eyes were still closed, but a faint smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. Then she thought on, and on...
Until she thought of that final moment, of the mysterious characters that had appeared dancing around them—and only then did she realize that those characters had been deeply engraved upon her mind. Perhaps this way, she could forget him?
So she spoke to the depths of her own heart; though she did not believe it herself, her lips still softly murmured: