Chapter 174 — The Man in Black
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 6
Zeng Shuchang had long been renowned, and indeed he was no ordinary man: amid the clamor of wind and rain, he could still catch some faint sound from Ming Li. Yet at this moment, in the gloomy forest before him, it was so dark he could not see his own hand, and beyond the wind and rain there was not a single further sign. Even he could not help but wonder whether that faintly heard, almost imperceptible sound had been a mistake—or whether the great crowd searching together had startled some animal into flight.
After a moment's pondering, Zeng Shuchang frowned in the darkness, waved his hand, and said, "Spread out, all of you, and form a single line. Keep no more than three feet apart, and search slowly forward—not a single gap may be missed."
Ming Li's heart lurched. With a search this fine-toothed, he would have almost no chance of escape. And as his heart quailed, he heard Zeng Shuyan's voice, faintly anxious: "Father, the woods are so vast—if you set so many disciples to search so densely here, what of the other places? Will they not go unsearched?"
Zeng Shuchang said mildly, "I have my reasons. Say no more—go."
Zeng Shuyan paused a moment in the darkness, not daring to say more, and could only turn and walk on. For a time no one spoke at all; only the points of light could be seen creeping slowly forward through the wind and rain, gradually stretching into a long serpent that pressed slowly ahead.
Somehow the atmosphere in these woods had suddenly turned strange. During the clamor just now, everyone had been stirred up, and so no one had felt fear; but now, in such silence, an inexplicable dread began to prickle at the heart.
Because of their cultivation and the nature of their artifacts, the faint glow cast by the Qingyun disciples' treasures generally did not reach far, and its brightness was quite limited. But linked one to another as they pressed slowly forward, they soon came within a mere two zhang of where Ming Li lay hidden.
"Wait!"
Suddenly Zeng Shuchang shouted aloud, and the dozens of Fenghui Peak disciples of Canglan Mountain scattered nearby halted at once. Zeng Shuyan started, then went to his father's side; by the glow of the artifacts he saw that Zeng Shuchang's face was gravely solemn.
"What is it, Father?"
Zeng Shuchang's gaze was deep, fixed straight ahead into the darkness—but what he looked toward was not where Ming Li lay hidden. On the contrary, his eyes were turned toward the distant, deep woods that ran parallel ahead.
In that deepest darkness there seemed to be nothing at all—and yet it seemed filled with countless phantom shapes of demons and ghosts, howling and dancing wildly through the wind and rain.
"Something is not right…" Beneath the faint glow, the wrinkles on Zeng Shuchang's face seemed suddenly to deepen, and a trace of doubt and fear showed in his eyes. But he was no ordinary man after all; after years of cultivation his will was firm, and with a cold snort he had already made his decision.
"Zheng"—a light ringing cry startled them all: Zeng Shuchang had actually summoned his personal immortal sword. Its blade gleamed silver-white, flickering and pulsing through the dark storm, bright and dazzling, utterly unlike those of the Qingyun disciples around him.
He was silent a moment, then said loudly, "I will walk in front. The rest of you keep as you were—search in a single line as I said before, but stay one zhang behind me. Do not come closer."
By now everyone more or less sensed that something strange and wrong was afoot, but with Zeng Shuchang present they felt they had a backbone. So they watched as Zeng Shuchang, his face grave, took his sword and walked to the front of the column, while the others kept to their formation as before—only keeping a zhang's distance from him ahead, not daring to draw near.
And so this strange column continued its slow advance.
A bizarre presence seemed to breathe softly in the dense woods on this stormy night…
"Woo… woo…"