Chapter 173 — Escape
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 5 of 6
In that instant, everyone was stunned, breathless, their minds utterly blank...
The Immortal Slayer!
The ancient sword Immortal Slayer!
Broken...
Beneath the clear bright sky, under the broad light of day, a peal of thunder suddenly tore across the heavens, crashing and rolling; in the blink of an eye the winds and clouds of all four directions came seething in, and heaven and earth changed color. Black clouds sank low and gathered over the summit of Canglan Mountain.
A gale rose up, sand flying and stones skipping, and with it came a sudden squall, thunder and lightning crashing, heaven and earth roaring—a wild storm that in an instant came pouring down.
It was as though the very heavens and earth were weeping aloud!
That night, heaven and earth mourned, and the divine sword perished!
********
Cold rain struck his face, stinging like knives; a deep chill seeped into him, as though his whole body had frozen stiff. Ming Li, in the woods, could not help but let out a low groan.
The torrential rain had poured for a full hour without the slightest sign of easing. Though it was still day, black clouds hung low over Qingyun, shrouding it so that it was like the dead of night, and one could not see five fingers before one's face.
And for that he was grateful: gravely wounded as he was, only this sudden tempest had let him temporarily evade Canglan Mountain's pursuit. Yet that uncanny duel with the Immortal Slayer, and above all that final blow—the sword's backlash had been overwhelming, driving into his body and snapping half the ribs in his chest. Now the broken bones stabbed at heart and lungs. For all his deep cultivation, he was after all **flesh and blood**; every step he took hurt so that cold sweat broke out all over him, and he hissed between his teeth.
At that moment Ming Li truly wished to cast everything aside and simply lie down on the ground and sleep. But the last sliver of clarity in his mind kept telling him he must go on. Given the old score between him and Canglan Mountain, and his broken body, if a Canglan disciple found him there would be nothing for him but death.
And yet, after all, there remained a reason he could not die!
So he endured, struggling slowly forward. The farther from Canglan Mountain, the safer he would be.
The rain poured down in torrents, falling madly upon the mortal world, as though the waters of heaven meant to wash away its ugliness. Ming Li gasped for breath, and with every breath faint white mist issued from his lips into the dark rainy night. The chill wrapped around him; behind him, the distant clamor of voices drew nearer and nearer, and it carried killing intent.
Plainly, though Ming Li fled with all his strength, his wounded body was far slower than the searchers behind him. Only the deep, dense woods of Canglan Mountain and the pitch-blackness of the sky had kept him undiscovered thus far. Yet Ming Li knew in his heart that it could not last forever.
He staggered; his foot seemed to catch on a branch or vine, and he pitched forward. In his panic he flailed out and caught hold of a small tree beside him, barely steadying himself. But the violent jolt sent a piercing agony deep into his bones, so that he could hardly draw breath, let alone take another step in flight.
The voices behind him suddenly drew close; it seemed that in the great wind and rain someone had still caught a strange sound, and at a word of command many footsteps began searching in Ming Li's direction.
Ming Li's heart went cold, but he would not surrender himself to capture. Yet even if he ran now with all his might, he could never outrun his hunters. Gritting his teeth, he shut his eyes and slid soundlessly down onto the muddy ground, face downward, burying himself in the mire. In the darkness he was like a heap of rotten mud abandoned by this world of wind and rain.