Chapter 232 — Killing Intent
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 5 of 7
After another intersection, the corridor ahead split into left and right. Jin Pingyue stopped, glanced toward the left-hand passage, a flicker of strange light passing through her eyes before vanishing, then stepped toward the right-hand corridor.
The sudden, bizarre earthquake from not long ago had left its damage upon the Nether King Sect still visible everywhere—chiefly in the many cracks, large and small, that marred the rock walls. And in these well-ventilated corridors that branched in all directions, a faint smell of blood still lingered, impossible to dispel.
Jin Pingyue sensed that faint bloody scent as well. Though puzzled, she did not let it show. Her position in the Nether King Sect now was not what it had been in the Enchantment Sect of old, and naturally she would not meddle. Yet inwardly she was secretly startled; with her experience and insight, she could sense that there was something very strange about this bloody aura.
As these thoughts passed, she had followed the corridor to the chamber where the Nether King resided. She stopped and was about to call for someone to announce her, when the stone door before her rumbled open and the Nether King's laughter came from within: "Is that Ping'er? Come in quickly."
Jin Pingyue was secretly startled, but she smoothed a smile onto her face and said with a smile, "Yes." With that, she walked in.
The stone chamber was spacious and bright. Though the furnishings were not lavish, they were dignified and grand. The Nether King sat behind a desk, a large sheet of white paper spread before him, the four treasures of the scholar's study set to one side—he appeared to be practicing calligraphy.
Jin Pingyue glanced at the Nether King and said with a charming smile, "What fine mood our sect master is in today—whatever made you think of writing?"
The Nether King looked up at Jin Pingyue and smiled faintly. Suddenly Jin Pingyue's smile froze—she felt the Nether King's gaze stabbing at her like two sharp blades, and meeting his eyes, her own seemed to ache faintly.
Fortunately, the Nether King quickly withdrew his gaze, still looking at the white paper beneath his hand, and beckoned, "Come take a look—how is this character I've written?"
Jin Pingyue was secretly alarmed. In all her past dealings with the Nether King, she had never felt anything like this. How was it that in so short a time, the Nether King's cultivation and power seemed to have advanced by leaps and bounds?
But she was not, after all, a shallow person. Pondering inwardly, she nonetheless put on a smile and walked over, trailing a waft of fragrance, and said with a laugh, "I'm a vulgar sort who knows nothing about calligraphy. Asking me to look, sect master, is truly making things hard for me."
The Nether King chuckled but did not answer. He shifted aside, and Jin Pingyue, standing by the desk, looked at the white paper—and what met her eyes was a single large character on that vast sheet: Kill!
Every stroke of that character was like iron wire and silver hooks, pressed down with such force it seemed about to burst through the paper. Fierce intent stood plain—nothing of the upright dignity of regular script, nor the effortless freedom of cursive. It was all a killing intent, rolling forth in waves.
Jin Pingyue's heart jolted. Then, for some reason, she felt a cold gaze upon her, yet the Nether King's kindly laughter reached her ears: "Ping'er, how do you find this character?"
Jin Pingyue's face was wreathed in smiles, like a spring breeze sweeping through and filling the room with spring, and she said with a smile, "Sect master, this character is truly beautifully written. Even if I practiced for ten years, I could never write anything like it."