劍問蒼天 - 第235章 陰謀 - 翰墨軒

Meeting the Underworld King's gaze, Master Ghost suddenly felt a shock in his heart; the Sect Master's eyes were strange and piercing, and even one of his cultivation seemed unable to look at them directly. A few thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning, but fortunately the black veil covered his face, so none could read his expression—at least, judging by his tone, it remained flat: "As the Sect Master says, this Four Spirits Blood Array is exceedingly powerful, and as the day of its completion draws ever nearer, that spiritual force will only grow stronger. Though I have laid eighteen seals around this Blood Pool, in truth I have no full confidence—especially on that final day, when the blood array first takes shape; it is sure to be a sight to shake heaven and earth. Whether these seals I have laid will hold, I truly cannot say. I fear that when the time comes, without precautions, some of our own disciples in the mountain's belly may well be caught in it."

The Underworld King gave a cold laugh. "And so?"

Master Ghost paused, looking at the Underworld King, and was silent for a moment. "I merely remind the Sect Master that, if necessary, some of the weaker disciples might be withdrawn from the mountain's belly in advance."

A fierce light flashed in the Underworld King's eyes. He gave a snort. "No need."

Master Ghost said nothing.

The Underworld King said coldly, "This wondrous formation of heaven and earth gathers the essence of the four spirits and nourishes it with blood and qi, producing a blood-fierce and malevolent aura, and only thus may the gate of Shura be opened. Even if some are buried with it, it is of no great consequence."

Master Ghost nodded slowly. "Yes. I understand."

The Underworld King laughed heartily, his manner arrogant and wild. He turned away, drew a deep breath, and let his gaze fall once more upon the Coiling Dragon Cauldron; watching that ever-shifting body of the vessel, his eyes too seemed to grow intoxicated.

And behind him, Master Ghost's eyes were thoughtful—yet in those eyes there was, more than anything, no fervor at all, but a cold clarity and sobriety.

On Canglan Mountain, Dragon Ridge Peak.

Among the seven peaks of Qingyun, Dragon Ridge Peak was second only to Heaven-Reaching Peak in height, steep and perilous, towering aloft. That night the moon was dark and the wind high; in a certain hidden woodland on the rear slope of Dragon Ridge Peak, a narrow path wound its way, coiling through the forest.

A cold night wind blew, and two figures, one tall and one short, descended from the sky and alighted upon the path—none other than Daoist Cangyan and Jin Pingyue.

This place was far from the halls and pavilions on the front slope of Dragon Ridge Peak where the disciples gathered; few ever came here ordinarily, and at this dead of night it was all the more silent, without a human sound. Daoist Cangyan's gaze was cold and stern; he glanced briefly about him, then raised his head to study the sky, and suddenly gave a snort.

Jin Pingyue regarded him with interest. "What is it, Daoist? By the look of you, you seem greatly angered."

Daoist Cangyan said coldly, "These disciples grow more worthless by the day. All my painstaking effort in years past, thrown away."

Jin Pingyue grew rather curious. "What has happened?"

Daoist Cangyan snorted and strode forward along the path, saying coldly as he went, "This rear-slope Heaven's Mechanism Lock is a vital ground. Though it looks no different from anywhere else, the ancestral forebears left standing orders generation after generation: the disciples of every peak must guard it strictly. And now—it is barely the second watch, and already not a soul is to be seen. A pack of useless trash!"

Jin Pingyue smiled faintly. "Does that not make things easier for us? You ought to be glad."

Daoist Cangyan snorted again, but plainly no gladness or pleasure showed on his face; instead his expression was frightful to behold, and he strode on.