Chapter 172 — Bloodthirst
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 6
Somehow, this peerless woman—the look in her eyes, the cast of her face at this moment—seemed so utterly weary, as though that one sword-thrust had drained her of all strength of heart and body. Her head was bowed faintly, her gaze blank, fixed on some nameless place; how long it was before she slowly raised her head and looked at what lay before her, none could say.
That man!
That man like a madman!
That man, silent as iron...
Such a pair of eyes, watching her in silence—no killing intent, no anger, and no tenderness or love either.
Lu Xueling's body gave a sudden, secret tremor, so slight that even she nearly took it for her own fancy—but what followed was a pain in her chest that nearly bent her double to the ground, as though the sharpest steel needle in the world had run her through from the depths of her heart.
Her face, pale as snow, suddenly flushed; her body swayed faintly. At the moment her brows knit slightly, at the moment when she seemed about to grit her teeth and endure, she suddenly closed her eyes and bent at the waist.
The Celestial Dipper gave a soft ringing cry, "hiss," and stood thrust into the ground. Lu Xueling, supporting herself on the hilt, spat out a small mouthful of blood that spattered back across the autumn-water blade.
The blood slowly gathered into beads, clinging to the Celestial Dipper's smooth blade, trembling faintly—and then, quietly, it slid down.
A wind from some unknown quarter drifted across the open ground before the Phantom Moon Cave, swaying and wandering by, and in the wind there came a few faint whistling notes.
The black qi scattered and thinned to nothing. Ming Li stood there, cold and indifferent, as Shihun flared with a dark cyan light and dropped from the sky. He reached up and caught it. And it was just as he turned his eyes toward Lu Xueling that Lin Jinghong, already withdrawing and turning back, flickered into being at Lu Xueling's side and put the ancient sword Shixian behind him.
Ming Li's gaze rested coldly on Lin Jinghong, then shifted to Lu Xueling's face. These two, now all but the most important people in the world to him, looked in his eyes no different from strangers.
In this mortal world, one lifetime's span—and how many people are there who can keep each other company to the end, unchanging all their lives?
He gritted his teeth, bared them, and smiled—proud and solitary, resolute and unyielding—then strode forward with all his might. The ancient sword lay just ahead. Even if it were a bottomless abyss, he would charge toward it! Ten years of time, ten years of piercing heartache—how could he cast it aside in a single morning?
Fury showed on Lin Jinghong's face, and the green light of the Dragon Slaying Sword rose again in his hand. But at that very moment, Lu Xueling suddenly straightened up. Though her face looked paler than ever, her voice seemed as clear and moving as it had been in years past:
"Stop right there!"
Ming Li's body jerked to a halt. He stopped in his tracks, then gave Lu Xueling a deep look and said sternly, "Get out of my way!"
A desolate look came over Lu Xueling's face. "Listen to me this once—go. And never come back."
Lin Jinghong frowned and glanced at Lu Xueling, about to speak and then thinking better of it. Ming Li, hearing her, showed no sign of accepting her kindness. He sneered, "Let me destroy Shixian, and I'll leave at once."
Lu Xueling shook her head wearily and said in a low voice, "I can't let you do that. The people from the front mountain will be here any moment. If you leave now, there's still time."
Ming Li and Lin Jinghong both started. They listened closely, and indeed, from somewhere far off came the faint, indistinct clamor of voices—seemingly quite a few people, arguing and shouting about something.