Chapter 168 — Sorcery
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 5
Standing atop the enormous skull of the White Bone Demon, the Beast Sovereign's bright silk robes stirred lightly in the wind; his face looked like a youth's, but his eyes held a gaze that had weathered more storms than could be told, and he too was watching the vast sword formation slowly taking shape in the sky.
Majestic purple vapor first rose from the rear mountain of Jietian Peak in the Canglan range—swift as lightning, matchless in force—soaring skyward like a colossal purple pillar propping up heaven and earth, suddenly manifest in this boundless world. Then the purple vapor steamed and surged, rushing through the air, and at last fell upon that immortal-slaying ancient sword that seemed stone and yet was not stone.
The next moment, the Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword lit up; even at a great distance, countless human beings could still feel that high in the sky, within that ancient sword, something had stirred—slowly waking from an age-long slumber.
Upon the Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword, brilliant light bloomed, illuminating the face of Dao Yan Zhenren.
His dark green Daoist robes billowed without wind, snapping loudly; his right hand held the sword, his face was stern, his left hand gripped the sword-sign. Between heaven and earth came his low voice, like Sanskrit chanting, like some strange incantation, echoing far and long. Then suddenly his left hand's sword-sign swept out, thrusting straight at the sky—and almost at the same instant, from the other six towering peaks of the Canglan range, six-colored radiance rose together, like rainbows piercing the heavens, hurtling through the air, tracing long arcs across the vault of sky, and at last all of it too fell upon that Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword.
In an instant the Immortal-Slaying Ancient Sword was swallowed in blinding radiance, like the rising sun fallen to earth, impossible to look upon; brilliant light burst from the ancient sword and at once scattered the black vapor that had coiled at one end of the sky, until no trace of it remained.
Within the intense light, the seven colors merged into one, rising within that dazzling white blaze, and in the sky took shape as a gigantic seven-colored sword, streaming with wondrous hues, rainbows flickering. Then that great colored master-sword, fed without cease by the spiritual energy of the seven peaks, began to grow ever larger, and as it grew it separated out smaller single-colored swords of every hue, more and more of them, until they densely filled the sky.
On the ground, among the watching crowds, a cheer erupted; countless young disciples, whether of the Canglan sect or not, wore looks of reverence and awe as they gazed up at that majestic sword formation, almost like something out of myth.
And many of those who had lived through the Qingyun upheaval ten years before now seemed to feel something complex—some joyful, some silent.
Among the crowd, amid the young disciples all beaming with delight, Lu Xueling quietly lifted her head to watch that radiant, magnificent Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation; rays of colored light were even reflected down from the sky, enfolding all the people there, herself included, and lighting her cheeks. Yet on her cold, beautiful face there was no expression at all; only in her bright eyes, mirroring the seven-colored light, stirred something strange and dark—and in the end no one could see into the depths of her heart.
Ten years—so they had slipped by, all unnoticed. Who still remembered that heart-rending scream upon the Canglan peak? Who still remembered that young man in his despair?
Lu Xueling's body trembled slightly, as if she had suddenly thought of something she could not bear, something that shook her; even her face darkened. Only by instinct did she grip the Tianxuan Divine Sword in her hand more tightly.
The sword-shadows filling the sky grew denser and denser; boundless radiance covered the whole vault of heaven.