Chapter 125 — Heartbreak
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 6
The child trembled from head to foot, watching the black demonic staff in Ming Li's hand flare bright in an instant, flashing with a blood-devouring, greedy, uncanny light. In moments, a dozen or so Li warriors nearby who had been hunting down women and children were, in their instant of shock, torn apart by invisible demonic force; countless streams of blood burst up into the sky and gathered there like a flood, swirling wildly around that despairing, maddened figure, and then were gradually drawn into the Blood-Devouring Bead in Ming Li's hand.
Everyone on the battlefield stopped short in astonishment, staring at this devil-like figure, their eyes filled with nothing but terror.
The Blood-Devouring Bead grew brighter and brighter. The familiar chill no longer merely coursed within his body; now, having drained the essence blood of more than a dozen in an instant, the bead was as though reborn, its demonic power surging. The strange red light grew ever brighter, mirrored in Ming Li's eyes like ghost fire.
Xiaobai stood at a distance, staring blankly at that figure growing ever more bloody and mad. Suddenly she turned her head away, unwilling to look any longer. In the night wind and bloody rain, it seemed she gave a soft sigh.
The long-vanished savagery, the cry buried deep in the heart, the defiance that had once flashed and vanished since ages past—all at once rose up again.
He howled!
Heaven and earth answered.
The flames in the sky and the red curtain on the earth trembled together.
Within that bloody light, there was a grin that seemed to come from the underworld itself.
One step, taken!
The stench of blood filled the air in an instant. Countless people scattered and fled, unable to understand how this man who had come to save them had suddenly become a demon.
Only, only—the sweetness of that fresh blood lay right before him, so intoxicating that he could not restrain himself. He drew deep breaths, gasping heavily; within the madness, was there still a trace of pain...
Lonely because mad?
Or mad because lonely?
The Blood-Devouring Bead was right at his hand, keeping him company, never leaving his side—only its flickering red light seemed to mock the world of men.
Sink, sink away!
All things are as ants and worms,
And life is loneliness itself!
He reached out to seize—blood drops slid from the edges of his fingers. Beneath his palm the mute boy trembled, unable to move, watching a curtain of red come veiling sky and sun. Was this, then, the hour of death...
...
"Zhang! Xiao! Fan..."
Across the horizon, that voice suddenly came—like ice split and snow cut, like the phoenix crying to the nine heavens, bearing endless fury, bearing unending grief!
Lu Xueling, white-robed as snow, came cleaving through the air amid the bloody light. The Tianxuan in her hand flashed from its sheath, its blue radiance shining upon her face, her eyes, her fury and her sorrow.
Red light flared up to meet it head-on. Thunder crashed; in an instant the earth for ten zhang around split asunder, and the river not far off, its waters already dyed red with blood, was driven surging up into the sky, setting the whole heavens ablaze.
Amid the spray of blood, in the distance the great shaman could hold out no longer. The red curtain gradually weakened, and great fireballs began to pierce through it, crashing down upon the ground of Qili Tong. Amid roaring and screams, the flames blazed—like a hell on earth.
Within the sea of fire, red and blue clashed and then parted. The woman in white descended slowly, not a trace of color left in her face.
Before her stood the panting figure, wreathed in fierce light and bloody flame, the one who held the blood-devouring demonic staff...
A hot wind stirred her robes and her hair. In the firelight, her body was visibly trembling.
Only the hand that gripped Tianxuan did not move at all, so tightly was it clenched.