Chapter 117 — Cold Night
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 6
Ming Li lay in his room a while. It had been a long time since he had stayed at an inn, and he found it somewhat hard to get used to. Unknowingly a long while passed; it was deep into the night, yet he still had no desire for sleep. A vague restlessness rose in his heart, and he stood up, walked slowly to the window, pushed it open, and looked out.
Unlike the daytime, at this hour the night sky over the southern frontier was gradually clearing; though clouds still lay thick, through a gap in them a thread of moonlight quietly showed itself.
The clear moonlight, like frost, like snow, spilled down in a hushed glow and fell upon him.
In the long, drifting world of dust, all living things lay asleep; the fields and wilds were silent, without a human sound. Only from some nameless corner of the street came the low chirping of insects, note upon note, mournful and chill.
Darkness shrouded the earth.
Leaning at the window and gazing far, he saw a thousand mountains and ten thousand li, and a night sky deep beyond measure.
Beneath such a desolate, lonely night in the southern frontier, suddenly the past surged up like a tide within his heart.
Once upon a time, the child of that remote village had sunk into the churning waves of the mortal world, drifting with the current. And when he chanced to look back, he found that there was not a single soul beside him.
Life is truly a lonely thing...
The man beneath the moon bowed his head and said nothing.
"Sss!"
From far off, a sound of something cleaving the air came drifting faint and long.
Ming Li raised his head, brows knitting slightly. He saw a faint streak of light at the horizon, like a meteor skimming across the night sky, cutting across the heavens, passing over Tianshui Stockade, and dropping toward the west.
And behind it, amazingly, there were three more streaks of light, in close pursuit.
Ming Li by now had such eyes and such experience that he saw at a glance that these four streaks of light were cultivators flying through the air. The four lights chased one another through the night clouds; though the three behind could never catch the one ahead, the one fleeing could not shake off the pursuit either.
After a moment, the leading light seemed to make a decision and descended from the sky. Judging by its position, it came down to the southwest of Tianshui Stockade.
Then the three pursuing lights descended as well.
Ming Li brooded a while. He only felt that his heart was ill at ease tonight, and he truly did not wish to stand here alone any longer. So with a wave of his right hand he soundlessly transformed into a beam of azure light and flew toward the place where the four lights had come down.
Just after his figure had dwindled into the distance, with a creak, the window of the room next to Ming Li's was pushed open as well. Xiaobai, holding Little Grey, gazed out toward the direction in which Ming Li had flown; after a moment, his figure vanished into the darkness.
Xiaobai's face was calm; on her fair features there was no expression, only the light in her eyes flickering strangely.
Ming Li flew on, silent all the way, and soon discovered that the place where those lights had descended was the site of Old Tianshui Stockade—that hilltop long since abandoned these many years.
Just as he entered the stockade, a muffled, stifled cry came from ahead, followed at once by a laugh—angry, and mingled with the familiar laugh of another.
Ming Li's brows drew together at once.
That laugh was tender and seductive to the bone, carrying a faint power to bewitch the heart. It was the voice of Jin Pingyue.
Ming Li hesitated, hid himself in a dark corner, and slowly crept forward.
In the street, originally still and deserted, lay broken walls and shattered tiles—a scene of desolation.
By now the sky had cleared a little more; the clouds were gradually dispersing, the moonlight growing brighter, casting a certain pale illumination over the ruined stockade.