劍問蒼天 - 第256章 靈牌 - 翰墨軒

Outside the hall, Lin Jinghong seemed to sense something; his brows knit, and he could not help but take a step toward the hall. From deep within that shadow a strange aura had suddenly risen, heavy with demonic and depraved air—nothing that belonged by nature to this Ancestral Hall.

The memory of the True Man Dao Yan's strange expression of a moment ago flashed through his mind, and unease stirred in him; yet looking at that imposing hall, he hesitated.

The mountain forest lay hushed; around the Ancestral Hall, even the birdsong had in a twinkling died away entirely, as though the birds too had sensed some nameless peril and fallen silent, one and all.

Within the hall, the True Man Dao Yan shook ever more violently, and the black qi around him grew ever denser. In the hall that had been so still, a whirlwind had sprung up at some point, moaning low and rushing through the empty chamber. The wind grew stronger and stronger; trembling, shrouded in black qi, the True Man Dao Yan slowly rose to his feet—and at that moment the look on his face was as though he had suddenly become another man, filled with a savage, ruthless air.

But look closely, and behind that savagery there was another look in the True Man Dao Yan's eyes—one of pain—so that the muscles of his face were contorted, as though he had all along been forcing himself to endure something; yet by the look of it, he was clearly nearing the end of his strength.

At this strange and perilous juncture, the uncanny wind swirling about him blew ever more fiercely, until it set even the heavy offering table sliding faintly backward, and even the distant incense table and spirit tablets behind it were caught up in it; many tablets swayed without cease, and some looked about to topple.

For the True Man Dao Yan, a member of the Canglan Sect, to thus profane the patriarchs' spirit tablets was outright treason against all propriety; yet to judge by his face, the savage qi only grew heavier—how could he spare a thought for such things now?

It was at this moment that a faint "crack" rang out: sure enough, under the gust, one spirit tablet set at the very edge of the incense table could hold no longer and toppled, striking the stone floor with a clear, sharp sound.

The sound seemed to startle the True Man Dao Yan as he struggled on. He turned his head instinctively—and in that instant, for some reason, a great shock ran through him, like a basin of cold water dashed over his head. The savage look receded swiftly, the uncanny black qi somehow withdrew and vanished, and on his face there remained only remorse and grief.

Beneath the dim lamplight, the fallen tablet lay quietly on the ground, motionless. And on the wooden plaque there was—plainly—a blank space.

It was a wordless, empty tablet.

That blankness seemed to be watching him coldly as well.

The True Man Dao Yan's lips began to tremble faintly. He stared blankly at the blank spirit tablet, then slowly walked over, gently picked up the wordless tablet, and carefully turned it over in his hands...

How long passed, none could say; out of the darkness came his hoarse voice, faintly choked: "Junior brother..."

Outside the Ancestral Hall, Lin Jinghong was sweating at the brow with impatience. After struggling with himself countless times, he at last steeled his heart and made ready to rush in regardless of all else and see what on earth had happened in the great hall of the Ancestral Hall—but just as he was about to spring forward, that strange aura within the hall suddenly vanished.

Now Lin Jinghong was thrown into fresh doubt and alarm, and the resolve he had just summoned would not carry his feet forward. After all, whoever was inside the Ancestral Hall, it was the present sect master of the Canglan Sect, the True Man Dao Yan, who had time and again saved the common folk—not only the people of the world, but even the ordinary disciples of the Canglan Sect, Lin Jinghong among them, regarded him as a figure out of legend.