Chapter 142 — Calamity
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 6
The storm within the formation gradually subsided; the sand and stones and dust flung skyward by that immense power fell back one after another, yet the cracks in the earth and that great deep pit still bore witness to the earthshaking blow just struck.
On the face of the old man standing at the hall's doorway, the corner of his mouth twitched, and at last a trace of a smile appeared. Deep in his eyes there seemed to lie a profound sense of gratification.
After a whistling sound, Lin Jinghong leaped out from that deep pit with the Dragon-Slaying Sword in hand, his body covered in dust, even his handsome face somewhat soiled. The moment his feet touched the ground he began to gasp for breath, yet his face could not hide its excitement and elation.
He lifted his head and looked toward the old man standing at the hall's doorway.
A faint smile hung at the old man's lips as he slowly raised his hand and beckoned to him gently.
When Lin Jinghong's breathing had somewhat steadied, he strode quickly to the old man's side and called out with a beaming face, "Senior, I—"
The old man nodded with a smile, his gaze resting on him full of gratification and affection, and said in a low voice, "You did well. Truly well."
As he spoke, he slowly lifted his head and looked at the sky, then said unhurriedly, "Even I, in my day, when I mastered this true-art sword formula, the 'Beheading of Ghosts and Gods,' was not much faster than you."
With a sharp "shhk," Lin Jinghong slid the Dragon-Slaying Sword back into its sheath, the excitement on his face still undimmed, and said, "Senior, if not for your guidance, I truly don't know when I would ever have been able to cultivate such peerless true arts!"
The old man gave a cold "hmph," a trace of disdain showing on his face, and said lightly, "In the Canglan Sect of today, apart from Daoyan, only Tian Buhui and that former master of yours, Cangsong, are passable. The rest of the elders and chief disciples are a pack of good-for-nothings."
Lin Jinghong was taken aback. He had studied under this mysterious old hall-keeper for more than ten years now, and with every year his cultivation deepened, so too did his admiration and reverence for the old man grow—he truly felt that this elder had opened up for him a world he had never known, that cultivation could be done in such a way as this.
And over the long days he had spent with the old man, the old man had come to cherish and favor him more and more, and spoke with him increasingly often, naturally touching now and then upon judgments of the figures of the age. At such moments the old man's tone was unexpectedly arrogant, as though, surveying all under heaven, scarcely a handful could meet his eye.
At first Lin Jinghong had not dared to argue, though in his heart he was somewhat unconvinced; but as his cultivation deepened, he came more and more to feel that this old man was truly unfathomable, and further that such arrogance must surely have its reasons—with such a level of cultivation, how many in all the world could truly be worthy of his regard?
It was only that he had always taken a dim view of that fat uncle-master of his on Dazhu Peak, Tian Buhui—and there was likely some residue of having once seen Tian Buhui scold Zhang Qingyue in it as well—so now he could not help saying, "Senior, I think that Tian Buhui is utterly ordinary. What's so remarkable about him?"