Chapter 224 — Striking at the Heart
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 7 of 7
The battle in the field grew ever fiercer, Ming Li's strikes ever more frenzied. Dao Yan the Perfected One defended with some difficulty, yet still without a single gap, and his occasional counterattacks were vicious in every stroke. Had Tian Buhui not come to the rescue in time, Ming Li would have been gravely wounded long ago.
As these perilous moments kept recurring and Tian Buhui was growing frantic, a clear cry suddenly rang out, and a white figure came drifting near, bearing not the slightest taint of the dusty world. Where blue light flashed, Tianxuan descended from the sky, auspicious qi steaming around it.
At last Lu Xueling too joined the battle.
With these three great masters fighting as one, the situation changed at once. However great Dao Yan the Perfected One's divine powers, he could not withstand them alone. Pressure like a mountain came rolling in endlessly from every direction. Of these three opponents, not one was anything less than a master of exquisite arts, and the treasures in their hands were each finer than the last. Yet Dao Yan the Perfected One at this moment still faced them empty-handed, holding off three with nothing but his own arts—truly an awe-inspiring feat of cultivation.
But in the hearts of all three, the same doubt rose unbidden: that peerless, overbearing ancient Immortal-Slaying Sword—where had it gone now, and why did Dao Yan the Perfected One not bring it out?
Just as the three were gradually overwhelming Dao Yan the Perfected One, and he, struggling bitterly on, was at last in imminent peril, a cold gleam flashed through his eyes as he swept them over the three before him.
Under that gaze, Ming Li and the other two all felt their hearts jolt. Before they could react, Dao Yan the Perfected One's force came crashing out like a raging tide. All three were startled and pressed their strength to block it. And in that fleeting instant, a black shadow flashed across Dao Yan the Perfected One's face. He cupped his left hand as a support, raised his right before his chest, fingers together like a blade, and rapidly intoned a strange incantation. Moments later the tips of his five fingers turned pitch-black—one flash, a second flash, and on the third they dispersed.
The vault of night, a wretched world!
As though some voice in the unseen depths were wailing to the heavens, that mournful cry soared upward, and the yin qi surged mightily as wind and clouds rolled.
Ming Li and Lu Xueling both saw at a glance that Dao Yan the Perfected One was about to unleash some strange and formidable spell. Without a moment's hesitation they made to rush in and attack—but no sooner had they moved than a most peculiar sound arose, as though something had suddenly split apart with a crisp crack. And that sound came, unmistakably, from close beside them!
A shuddering sensation swept through their hearts like lightning.
Both halted in their tracks and slowly turned around.
Behind them, a short, stout figure had come to a halt even earlier.
Tian Buhui's face still wore the expression of the moment before, yet now it looked somewhat stiff; he remained standing in midair, the radiance of the crimson flame shining just as brightly, but his body had gone utterly still.
That strange sound, so bizarre it was almost heart-rending, had unmistakably come from Tian Buhui himself.