Chapter 135 — Strange Arts
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 5 of 6
But at this moment no one had the heart to heed that dark figure; every gaze was fixed tensely on the great shaman standing beside the azure-glass cold ice stone platform.
Ming Li could not help quietly clenching his fists. On this occasion he had not brought Little Gray along. Gazing at the great shaman's aged figure and at Biluo's face amid the pale white vapor, he whose will had long been steel found his own body beginning to tremble faintly.
Ten years—ten years of longing, the nightmare that had coiled about his heart without cease, and now that hope lay before his eyes.
The great shaman's body swayed slightly; the crowd behind him stirred, and Ming Li could not keep from stepping forward. Even the Nether King, ever the most composed, felt the corner of his eye twitch.
The great shaman turned his head, smiled at them all to show there was nothing seriously wrong, and only then did they set their hearts at ease.
Yet after a night's rest, the great shaman's complexion today seemed no better than yesterday's—rather, there was a tendency toward further decline. Every wrinkle on his aged face was carved deep, as though squeezing out the last of his life.
In the stone chamber, there was only the sound of the great shaman's breathing, growing gradually heavier.
The Nether King exchanged a glance with Ming Li beside him, and each saw in the other's eyes a faint, unspoken anxiety.
Suddenly the great shaman reached out a trembling hand, pointing toward the "Bell of Union" that Biluo held in both hands.
The golden bell stood upright between her fair hands, glimmering with soft light; upon its body the reflection of that withered hand drew slowly nearer.
The next instant, the shriveled hand touched the Bell of Union, and everyone in the Cold Ice Stone Chamber held their breath.
From the great shaman's fingertips a faint blue light began to glow, slowly brightening—yet as the light flickered on without cease, the great shaman's face grew more and more lifeless, ashen as death itself.
As though hearing some call, suddenly the Bell of Union, silent these ten years, burst forth with a clear chime that rippled softly outward.
The faces of King Ming and Ming Li instantly showed excitement, and the two men could not help but step forward at the same time. Only after a moment did they both come to their senses and control themselves, but their eyes were already fixed dead on the shaman's finger.
After that crisp chime rang out, a layer of golden light slowly rose upon the body of the Harmony Bell. Though it was not bright, almost at the very moment this golden glow appeared, the shaman's face suddenly showed signs of strain, and within moments the chill in the ice-stone chamber suddenly grew intense.
Everyone present changed color almost at once. Anyone who could stand here was a great master of Daoist cultivation, and almost instinctively King Ming, Ming Li, and Xiao Bai all rose and floated forward.
But just as the cold air expanded in an instant, the originally gentle golden light on the Harmony Bell turned blazing in the blink of an eye, almost like tangible fire, and with a "boom" it spread swiftly in all directions through the stone chamber.
The shaman bore the brunt of it, and his body was frail to begin with; at once his whole body was struck into midair by this blazing light, and a mouthful of fresh blood was violently spat out.
King Ming's figure was almost ghostlike, appearing instantly beside the shaman and catching his body. Ming Li appeared before him at the same time, the Soul-Devouring Demon Staff appearing in midair, and a ring of dark-green light flashed into being, blocking the golden bell's blazing radiance that came surging like mountains and seas. And Xiao Bai's white figure appeared beside the cold ice-stone platform; raising her hand, a white light descended slowly, shrouding the Harmony Bell within it.