Chapter 107 — The Demon Formation
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 5 of 6
Lü Shun's face darkened further. Gritting his teeth, he poured light into his immortal sword until it blazed, and as one with the blade charged into the hall; in a moment the hall was bright. But just as his figure vanished into the hall, from one side of its broken walls two dark shadows sped swiftly away from the hall into the shadows nearby, and were seen no more.
After a while, Lü Shun could be heard ransacking the hall, thumping and clattering for quite some time, but at last he came dejectedly out, clearly having found nothing. He stood on the steps, his face shifting between dark and fair, and after a long while stamped his foot and sighed, "Enough, enough."
Shaking his head without cease, he rose on his sword and flew south, vanishing in a moment.
The ancient temple fell silent at once, and the insects, startled into silence by Lü Shun, began chirping again; the cold moon and clear wind—once more a scene of desolation.
But long after Lü Shun had disappeared, the temple seemed to have lost all life, and still nothing stirred. After another moment, a sharp whistle suddenly split the air, and a red sword-glow came plunging down from the high clouds, alighting with incredible speed in the temple courtyard; it wavered a few times, and revealed Lü Shun's figure.
This return after departing was in fact a stratagem of the empty city: he had pretended to flee far, then doubled back from afar and hidden himself in the black clouds above. Yet even so, no one appeared in the temple. At last a look of dejection came over Lü Shun's face; with a long sigh he was silent a moment, then rose once more on his sword and flew south, and thereafter was seen no more—this time he had truly gone.
The ancient temple once again returned to stillness, but a moment later two dark shadows shifted, and slowly two figures emerged.
The foremost walked slowly into the courtyard. Moonlight like water poured coldly down, drawing his figure into a long, slender shadow upon the broken bluestone flagstones.
It was Ming Li.
He raised his head and looked at the moon.
The moonlight shone cold upon his face.
Suddenly, he seemed to have acquired a touch of world-weariness.
Even the little grey monkey crouched on his shoulder seemed silent now, and like its master quietly raised its head to gaze at the moon.
"What, does the young master fancy this southern moonlight?" Suddenly, from behind him, another slender figure still hidden in the shadows spoke in a soft, pleasing voice that reached his ear.
Ming Li slowly withdrew his gaze, but did not turn his head, nor answer the shadow woman's question; instead he asked, "Why did you kill that fish-man?"
The woman, still hidden in the shadows, gave a light laugh. "Those fish-men harmed not only the young master's men but my own as well. I did it to vent your anger for you, young master."
Ming Li's expression did not change in the least; plainly he did not believe a word of it. He said coolly, "I have long heard that the Purple Ray Blade is a divine weapon of the nine heavens. Today, wielded in your hands, it has indeed shown power beyond the guessing of gods and ghosts."
The woman gave another light laugh, soft and sweet, and in that desolate night it seemed suddenly to add a few strokes of color, coming vividly to life.
Footsteps sounded softly, and she slowly stepped out from the shadows.
It was none other than Jin Pingyue of the Heretic Sect's Soul-Bewildering Faction, known to all as "Young Master Miao." Bathed in the moonlight, she still wore her pale yellow gown, its soft collar stirring gently in the night wind, while a few fine strands of hair hung loose at her temples—slightly disheveled, yet somehow all the more subtly alluring.
A deep mountain, an ancient temple—a cold night, a beautiful woman!