Chapter 189 — Blood
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 7
This stretch of carvings, once so fearsome, now looked to have become dead, lifeless things.
The two of them fell into silence for a time, not knowing what to say. After a long while, Jin Pingyue seemed to think of something; she raised her head, about to speak, when suddenly her expression changed—and Ming Li's brows had already knit. He whirled about, and in the blink of an eye darted to the side of Xiao Hui, who was playing nearby, scooped the monkey up in one arm, and then his form rose into the air. Moments later, he had vanished into the darkness above the hall of the Xuanhuo Altar.
Jin Pingyue watched his figure vanish into the darkness in a few swift movements, smiled faintly, and then floated up as well, likewise disappearing into the dark.
A moment later, with a creak, a dull sound echoed through the hall of the Xuanhuo Altar.
The door had been pushed open...
Footsteps sounded at the doorway; by the sound of it, there were quite a few people. Yet a voice of some authority came faintly from among them, and after a few words, all fell silent. Then, through the open door, three figures walked in.
The foremost was none other than Yun Yifeng, Valley Master of the Fenxia Valley. Half a step behind him to the right was his junior brother, Shangguan Lue. And the last, several paces behind the two ahead, was Yun Yifeng's prized disciple, Li Xun.
After the three entered the Xuanhuo Altar, Li Xun, walking last, turned and shut the heavy door. The light was at once shut outside, leaving only that faint dimness flickering slowly within.
Deprived of its former formation spiritual power, the top three levels of the Xuanhuo Altar, once bitterly cold, had long since lost that piercing chill. What remained was only the cold indifference of huge, hard rock. In the darkness, Ming Li and Jin Pingyue silently passed through that pitch-black opening and looked down from the dark.
As though it too knew this time was unlike before, the ever-restless Xiao Hui seemed to have quieted; it lay obediently at its master's side.
Yun Yifeng and Shangguan Lue walked slowly to the center of the Xuanhuo Altar and stood upon the former Eight Ferocious Mystic Fire Formation. Seen from afar, his face too seemed shrouded in shadow.
The three below stood there and were silent for a long while, saying nothing; the atmosphere was faintly strange. And above them, Ming Li, as if sensing something, glanced toward Jin Pingyue—and happened to see that Jin Pingyue was looking at him as well. Both saw in the other's eyes that faint trace of bewilderment.
Yun Yifeng appeared to wear a gloomy expression—and perhaps his mood ought indeed to be so; anyone who saw the foundation he had built over many years reduced to such a state would surely be in foul spirits. Only, at first glance his face seemed expressionless; look a little longer, and it gave one a vague sense of shifting endlessly, a thousand transformations—yet if you observed closely, you would find that his expression had never changed at all. What changed was merely your own mind.
At least during those days on Canglan Mountain, no one in the world would see him wearing such an expression.
For a long while, Yun Yifeng's drifting gaze kept moving over the strange red stone carvings on the floor of the Mystic Fire Altar, from one end to the other, from one image to the next, until at last he walked slowly to the small, blackened stone dais that rose in the center of the carved images, reached out a hand, and gently stroked the stone.
"How long has it been?" Yun Yifeng suddenly spoke, asking in a low voice this abrupt and inexplicable question.
Shangguan Lue stood beside him. His expression showed no surprise at this sudden question from Yun Yifeng; clearly he seemed to understand certain matters well. Yet he showed no inclination to answer. Instead, rather strangely, he turned his head and glanced at Li Xun, who stood three paces behind the two of them.