Chapter 225 — The Wound
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 3 of 5
He laughed on, greatly pleased; then, as though remembering something, his smile eased and he said gravely to Master Gui, "My thanks to you."
Master Gui bowed his head slightly. "That this peerless array can succeed is all owing to the Sect Master's boundless fortune. And without this divine artifact, the Fulong Cauldron, I too would have been helpless."
The Nether King smiled and shook his head. "The Fulong Cauldron is the great treasure of our Palace of the Nether King, yet for many years none could fathom the inscriptions upon it. Only you, in the end, lent this old man a hand. Heaven sent you to me, that I might achieve my dominion!"
Master Gui was silent a moment. "The Sect Master flatters me."
The Nether King gave a soft laugh, then turned again, his gaze falling once more upon the Fulong Cauldron—suspended in the void, blazing with light, pressing upon the senses with its auspicious aura. Again a look of wild, exultant joy swept over his eyes, and he could not help but burst once more into laughter.
Master Gui stood quietly behind the Nether King, watching that ever more arrogant and reckless bearing, and said not a word. Were anyone who knew the Nether King to enter this place now, they would surely be astonished; the Nether King had always been a man of great ambition and deep reserve, never showing such brash, overweening expression. Yet seeing it now, Master Gui showed not the slightest surprise.
Whether it was because he had grown used to the Nether King in their many private hours together, or because his own thoughts ran too deep for any outsider to read—none could say.
In any case, above the vast blood pool in that hidden mountain belly, amid the thick stench of blood, the Nether King exulted in his schemes for what was to come. His gloating laughter echoed and would not fade, gradually filling the whole enormous cavern. And behind him stood a quiet shadow, silent and soundless.
At the foot of Canglan Mountain.
That strange layer of black cloud in the sky had, at some point, gradually dispersed, though the clouds remained thick. From the pitch-black heavens the rain still fell, washing over this somewhat desolate mortal world.
Over the wild land the wind blew hard and the rain came in torrents, the chill biting to the bone. The place that had so recently been an abandoned mortuary had, after a fierce and soul-shaking battle, become utterly a ruin; even the earth beneath had been torn open by the violence of mighty forces, and now, scoured by wind and rain, had turned to filthy mire.
The sky was murky, without a trace of light. In the wild, in the wind and rain, only a wisp of pale blue light glimmered faintly.
Lu Xueling, who had always loved cleanliness, had her white robes soiled with mud, but she seemed not to care in the least. Not far before her lay quietly the body of Tian Buhui; his eyes were closed, and he was calm as though asleep. Wind and rain beat upon his face, and in the wind there was a sound like sobbing, as though someone wept.
Ming Li still had not awakened. By the pale blue glow of Tianxuan one could see that his face was as white as a dead man's, his features twisted with pain. Had it not been for the faint rise and fall of his chest, one might almost have taken him for dead. He was held now in Lu Xueling's arms; Tianxuan shone quietly, and in the small space around the two of them an invisible force held back the raindrops.
Not far in front of them, the monkey Xiaohui had lost its usual liveliness and sat quietly on the ground. The rain falling from the sky soaked its fur, and now and then drops ran down its face and body to the earth. A cold wind blew past, and all three of Xiaohui's eyes blinked; as though it felt the chill, it quietly edged a little closer to Ming Li's body.