Chapter 91 — The Oriole Behind

It happened without warning. In the darkness, change struck all at once, and the men of the Longevity Hall were caught off guard, unable to react in time.

In that instant, swift as a spark struck from flint, the Orthodox cultivators who had been lying in wait emerged one after another, each summoning their magic treasures and charging straight in to kill. With forethought against surprise, they held an enormous advantage—and every Orthodox disciple present was an outstanding heir of one great sect or another. In cultivation they might not match figures like Yuyang Zi, but against ordinary members of the Hall they were far superior.

For that brief span they were tigers loosed among sheep. Orthodox and Demonic had always loathed each other, and neither side held back its hand. Across the night, lights of every hue flashed wildly, and screams and shrieks filled the air without cease; the stench of blood rose at once and drifted through the marsh.

At the very forefront of those many-colored lights blazed a cold, dazzling emerald radiance—it was the Dragon-Slaying Sword of Lin Jinghong, a disciple of Dragon Ridge Peak of the Canglan Sect.

This young man, who had never before revealed his depth, was suddenly all brilliance and blaze. The Dragon-Slaying Sword gave a thunderous, keening cry, and a vast emerald light soared skyward, wrapping around its master as he plunged recklessly into the midst of the Longevity Hall crowd.

It was the most resplendent light in the night. His eyes were cold, yet deep in his pupils something like fervor burned—as though he thirsted for the blood that would burst beneath the cold gleam ahead.

The first several Hall members the emerald light swept past were scattered as a rain of blood.

The crowd cried out in alarm and surged to surround him, but Lin Jinghong seemed utterly heedless of the enemies striking at his back. His eyes fixed only ahead, he charged straight for the thickest press of men, cutting and slashing in every direction, unstoppable in his ferocity; wherever he passed, flesh and blood flew.

After a moment, the other Orthodox disciples caught up, each unleashing their magic treasures, and battle joined against the men of the Longevity Hall.

Amid the chaos, Xiao Yichen was still shaken by Lin Jinghong's display, and shouted at the top of his voice, "Brother Lin, be careful—"

But Lin Jinghong acted as though he could not hear any warning at all. In this moment he was utterly unlike the youth who had studied on Dragon Ridge Peak years before—Dragon-Slaying Sword in hand, his body itself become a blade of demon-slaying light!

Countless Hall members swarmed and encircled him, and yet he never once looked back. The Dragon-Slaying Sword flashed and wheeled through the night; endless blood sprayed up before him and fell again, soaking his garments.

In time, countless Hall members were pursuing him from behind, while ahead of him scarcely any dared stand their ground. All fled pell-mell, not daring to face this man who seemed a very mad demon.

Until, from deep in the darkness, came a harsh, wailing "whhooo," and a white light flashed—a round object spinning violently came hurtling down from the sky, striking straight for the crown of Lin Jinghong's head.

Lin Jinghong shouted once, and the Dragon-Slaying Sword, which had been dancing through the slaughter, flew back to him in an instant. He caught it and thrust it straight up at the heavens, and instantly the emerald light blazed forth and he rose into the air—but the disc above proved the fiercer. Black and white radiance alternated, and there amid the vast emerald glow it bore down upon him, brutally, without yielding.

For the first time Lin Jinghong's expression changed. He knew a true master had finally appeared among the Longevity Hall. That unknown treasure in midair looked insignificant enough, yet it treated the Dragon-Slaying Sword's incomparably keen blade-light as though it did not exist, pressing down swift and heavy with a crushing weight.

As the pressure of the disc bore down, Lin Jinghong's face shifted and he understood something of what he faced. With a sudden great shout, his whole body flew backward—barely an instant too soon: the disc came thundering down on the spot where he had stood, blasting a crater a full zhang across. The force of it was savage; plainly this person was filled with vicious hatred.

Lin Jinghong hurled himself backward, and the Canglan disciples behind him came rushing up to cover him. But he had charged recklessly into the Longevity Hall crowd, enemies on every side, and before he could land and steady himself, searing pain tore through him—in that brief space three or four blades had already bitten into his body.

Blood sprayed in fountains, vivid as flowers, staining his clothes red. Lin Jinghong's eye twitched, but there was not the slightest fear or flinching in him. Even amid the spray of his own blood, the Dragon-Slaying Sword's light grew brighter and more dazzling, whirling around him; screams rang out at once, and three or four Longevity Hall disciples staggered back, arms severed and spitting blood, plainly beyond saving.

Watching this young man's ferocity, the crowd could not help but take notice.

Moments later the Orthodox cultivators came surging in from every side, and the men of the Longevity Hall dared not linger in battle; they fell back. And at the place where Lin Jinghong had just been driven off, Yuyang Zi slowly appeared. His face was savage, and of the immortal bearing he wore in ordinary days not a trace remained.

By now the fierce fighting in the field had gradually died down. The Longevity Hall members fell back one by one behind Yuyang Zi, and the young Orthodox disciples gathered together as well. Xiao Yichen, Fa Cheng, Li Xun and the others stood at the very front; Wen Pei of Xiaozhu Peak came over and helped bind Lin Jinghong's wounds and staunch the bleeding, meanwhile murmuring low, "You young fool—how can you hold your own life so cheap?"

Lin Jinghong had only met Wen Pei a few times back on Jietian Peak, and now to have her suddenly tend to him left him startled. For ten years he had studied under that mysterious old man in the Ancestral Hall on Jietian Peak of the Canglan Sect, and by his own gifts and stubborn endurance he had at last achieved mastery. Today's display had indeed shaken the whole field; every eye regarded him anew.

But after this unfamiliar senior sister asked her question, Lin Jinghong found himself at a loss for words. Wen Pei was kind by nature; seeing half his body soaked in blood, and seizing this rare lull, she set to work binding his wounds—though with the situation so urgent she could only do it hastily—then said low, "There will be more hard fighting soon. Be careful."

Warmth rose in Lin Jinghong's heart. He nodded and said low, "Thank you, senior sister."

Wen Pei smiled, stepped aside, and took her place beside Lu Xueling. Lu Xueling turned her gaze toward Lin Jinghong; her face showed no expression at all, but something seemed to flicker in her eyes.

Ahead, among the Longevity Hall, Yuyang Zi's face was grim and cold. His one remaining right hand gripped his magic treasure, the Yin-Yang Mirror, so hard that the veins stood out on his hand.

This raid on the Orthodox had instead been turned against them by these Orthodox juniors. A rough glance told him that in this short while the Longevity Hall had already lost a third of its numbers, while on the Orthodox side there was almost no damage at all—Lin Jinghong, slashed several times, seemed the worst hurt of them all.

Li Xun now gazed at the Demonic Longevity Hall ranks ahead, a gleam in his eyes, and suddenly said low, "Senior Brother Xiao truly planned it like a god. I am in awe."

Xiao Yichen smiled faintly. "Merely a coincidence. In days to come I shall have much to rely on Senior Brother Li for—I hope you will not begrudge me your guidance."