Chapter 127 — Heart's Intent
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 1 of 6
Everyone held their breath.
That figure was swallowed up and vanished within the immense white pillar of light.
The woman in white standing atop the clouds—perhaps from sheer overexertion—staggered as well, no longer able to keep her balance, and slowly descended.
But then, but then—where had that sudden laughter come from?
So desolate, yet so utterly imperious!
Within the white pillar of light, a crimson glow burst forth, deep red as blood; that man, bathed head to foot in gore, surged out like a frenzied demon, howling at the sky.
The night was at its darkest.
Hair unbound, garments torn, sprayed blood like mist—only the Blood-Devouring Pearl shone so brightly, illuminating the whole night sky.
He raised his head and glared, charging straight upward.
The wind howled bitterly, the stench of blood rolling in waves. Lu Xueling's face was white as snow, not a trace of color left in it. Gazing at the onrushing figure, she instinctively thrust out Tianxuan.
Radiant blue light flooded ten thousand fathoms, piercing the blood mist in an instant—right there before him.
That wound—there before her eyes.
Tianxuan trembled faintly!
That gaze, coming deep and piercing, mad yet so familiar.
She still remembered—that youth from many years ago, who once cast everything aside without a care...
The crimson radiance surged wildly, engulfing the silhouettes of both.
Ghostly wails rose, shrieking across the sky.
The righteous cultivators cried out in alarm and rushed to take flight. But before they could react, another strange white shadow shot upward like lightning.
Amid the crimson glow, a blood-smeared palm, like a demon's leering claw, reached for her.
Yet Tianxuan quietly, powerlessly, drooped.
She stood alone in the wind and rain, facing him, gazing in silence.
The bloody palm pressed against her collar; surging demonic power roared at the edge of that hand.
Those eyes, gone mad and blood-red, were right before her.
Whose heart was it, beating so softly...
The crimson radiance scattered, and a figure slumped and fell.
Lu Xueling stood in midair, eyes tightly shut; upon her collar was a red bloodstain, stark and shocking to behold.
After the wind and rain pass—are there still tears left...
A moment before the righteous cultivators could move, the sudden white shadow snatched up the unconscious Ming Li; it was Xiaobai who carried him and darted aside.
She examined Ming Li's wounds, her brows knitting tight, shaking her head with a sigh. "I really can't stand you men—even if you're devoted, there's no need to make it this tragic..."
Ming Li did not answer; a man who has lost consciousness cannot speak. But after the initial shock, the righteous cultivators burst into scolding shouts. Xiaobai lifted her gaze—bright eyes, bewitching looks—and silenced them all at once.
Lu Xueling slowly descended. The blood-red handprint on her collar seemed carved into the fabric, standing out starkly against her white robes; everyone could almost imagine how close death had come to this woman at the demon's hand!
Yet she had still escaped calamity, and it was the demonic sect's villain who remained gravely wounded.
The finest of the Canglan Sect's younger generation—truly extraordinary.
Xiaobai's gaze swept over the crowd and finally settled on Lu Xueling. She studied her carefully up and down for a moment, nodded, and a faint smile touched the corner of her mouth. "A peerless beauty indeed—no wonder men go mad for you." With that, she first glanced at Ming Li in her arms, then, deliberately or not, turned her head toward Li Xun, who stood nearby with pain written on his face.