Chapter 133 — Resurrection
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 5
As the shaman's figure suddenly appeared and drew near that strange ring, there came a sudden, teeth-grating "creak, creak" amid the cold wind—and several of those white skulls began to turn, slowly swiveling toward the shaman.
In that dreadful moment when the heart nearly stopped, the shaman seemed utterly unconcerned with these fearsome skeletons. His gaze, from first to last, was fixed on a single place.
The very center of the ring formed by the thirteen skeletons.
A life-sized skeleton lay quietly upon a white jade platform barely three inches high. Unlike the skulls around it, this human-shaped skeleton was draped in silk—and after untold ages, under the glow, the silk's color was still vividly bright.
And all the light and radiance around them, even the howling cold wind, issued from this skeleton.
The shaman drifted slowly closer to it.
The light swirled, the eerie beams now long, now short, as though somewhere unseen a pair of eyes were watching him.
Around him, all thirteen skeletons suddenly gave out their "creak, creak" at once, as if rising together from the dead; their skulls turned, and their deep eye sockets fixed upon the shaman's figure.
The next instant, that sheet of silk leapt into the air and floated aloft.
As if in a silent, muffled roar, a dazzling light blazed out from beneath the silk, hurtling in all directions like an arrow loosed beyond all stopping.
With a "whoosh," the shaman even felt that light, surging with a boundless demonic force, rush past his ear.
A violent wind, mingled with a grim, cold laugh, began to echo through the ancient cave.
The thirteen skeletons suddenly raised their heads as one and howled at the sky!
Beneath that eerie atmosphere, the shaman slowly settled down before the white bones. In the white light, it was very clear that this life-sized skeleton had five broken places: the right hand, the left ankle, the throat bone, the skull—and its entire spine was gone.
Now, mirrors in the light the bones gave off, a white pearl rested at the right hand, a jade disc at the left ankle, and where the throat had broken, a round ring was set.
The shaman slowly drew the bone jade from the black staff, bit by bit, then gently laid it upon the skeleton's skull. At the very center of the forehead there was a small broken hollow, and the bone jade fit into it precisely.
In the darkness, something like a voice called out from far away.
The shaman's body suddenly trembled; he swayed, and the light mirrored in his eyes like two burning white flames.
Whose soul and body were those flames consuming?
He seemed to cry out softly, but no one could hear what he said. The next instant, he laid the black staff at the center of the white bones, where the spine should be.
Suddenly, everything went still.
The howling cold wind ceased, the dazzling white light vanished, and the darkness surged up like the silent, rolling waves of a boundless sea, drowning all!
Who was it, waiting in silence in the dark?
That deepest darkness—or the dawn of illusion?
Everything fell calm, like a desolate stillness unchanged since the beginning of time. The white bones ceased their cries and fell silent.
A sound, in the deepest place of darkness and silence, quietly arose!
"Thump!"
"Thump!"
"Thump thump!"
…
It was the sound of a heartbeat, brimming with new vitality. All around was still pitch-black, but like a thing of magic, the heartbeat grew steadily louder, and slowly, a murmuring of flowing water began.
No—not water, but rushing blood, surging forth from the heart, dancing wildly in the darkness with endless joy and irresistible momentum.
After countless ages of slumber, after endless cold, warmth once more!
Who was it, softly panting in the dark?
The surging sound grew fiercer and fiercer, like the cry of a imprisoned soul gathering a thousand years of resentment; every drop of reborn blood carried madness and defiance!