Chapter 100 — The Dark Serpent

Amid the radiance, Ming Li exhaled and cried out; with a muffled "boom," the Heaven-Cutting Divine Sword was sent flying back, and the Tai Chi diagram, after flickering several times, vanished in midair.

Ming Li gave a low chuckle, looking at Lu Xueling, a faint admiration in his eyes—but it was quickly overlaid with red light. "Truly formidable," he said. "In only ten years, you have actually broken through to the Supreme Clarity Realm. I daresay even the Patriarch Qingye in his day was no more than this?"

Lu Xueling stood in midair, garments fluttering. A gesture of the sword-seal in her hand checked the Heaven-Cutting Sword's momentum, and the blue light blazed brighter still than before. Inwardly, however, she was secretly startled. Her rapid progress over these ten years was due in part to her surpassing gifts, but chiefly to a ferocity of discipline that could almost be called excessive—so reckless had her cultivation been that even her master, the Venerable Master Shuijing, could not bear to watch and had remonstrated with her many times. The reason for it was not something outsiders could understand.

That bitter discipline, joined to her extraordinary endowment, had at last, half a year ago, made her the first among the younger generation of the Canglan Sect to break through to the Supreme Clarity Realm—the fastest anyone had reached that realm in a thousand years, save Patriarch Qingye himself. In cultivation she now stood, within the Canglan Sect, beneath only the various elders and heads; even Xiao Yichen, long hailed as the foremost of the sect's young disciples, must surely fall somewhat short of her.

And yet, for all that, Ming Li—this man who had once been the ordinary Qingyun disciple Zhang Qingyue—was in no way her inferior in cultivation. That conjured Tai Chi diagram, so practiced and masterful, had blocked a sword stroke imbued with the power of the Supreme Clarity Realm; and the hidden force within it had surged layer upon layer, deep and solid, seeming to belong to the Buddhist school—yet his casting was plainly the gestures and seals of the Tai Chi Mystic Clarity art.

Had this man, at last, also walked a road upon the path of cultivation that no one before him had trod?

The two regarded each other, their gazes gradually turning sharp and bright. But at that very moment, a roar of extraordinary loudness suddenly came crashing up from the mist!

So fierce and resounding was the sound that even Ming Li and Lu Xueling, for all their cultivation, felt faintly dizzy; and almost at the same instant, the tree trunk beneath their feet gave a violent shudder.

It was as though the solid earth itself had suddenly convulsed—something like the shock of an earthquake.

"Chee-chee! Chee-chee!" A shriek went up—it was the monkey Xiao Hui, sprawled beside the stone gate of the Heavenly Emperor's Treasure Vault, startled out of his wits by the sudden tremor. Clutching at the vines beside the gate, he cried out.

Before Ming Li and Lu Xueling could react, four figures suddenly appeared from the direction in which this immense trunk stretched away, flying swiftly toward them—one in front, three behind—and in the blink of an eye they were close at hand. Lu Xueling and Ming Li looked that way, and both were stunned.

The four, who had been pursuing them all this way, were likewise greatly startled to find that someone had reached the place ahead of them, and could not help halting.

All four were familiar figures. The one in front, alone, was a young woman of soft and alluring charm—none other than Jin Pingyue of the demon cult's Enchantment Sect. Those following her were of the righteous path, and not only did Lu Xueling know them—even Ming Li knew them.

Facheng, Zeng Shuyan, and—stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze never once leaving Ming Li—Lin Jinghong!

The clearing suddenly fell silent.

Ming Li's gaze went to them, and complex expressions rose on the faces of Facheng and the others—joy, and astonishment, and one emotion after another fleeting across their features.

Jin Pingyue's lovely eyes swept the scene. Given Ming Li's standing and power within the Nether King Sect, she of course knew his origins inside and out, and she knew something as well of the old entanglements between Ming Li and the righteous-path cultivators now present.

Reading the situation, she pondered briefly, and her feet had already quietly shifted toward Ming Li, until she stood beside him.

On the righteous side, Facheng and Lu Xueling both frowned slightly at Jin Pingyue's movement, but still said nothing.

It was Lin Jinghong, standing farthest back, who broke the silence.

In his eyes, it seemed, Jin Pingyue's figure could not be seen at all; there was only the Zhang Qingyue of former days standing before him. He took a few slow steps forward, his lips moving, as though even to speak cost him some effort.

"You... are you well?"

Ming Li slowly withdrew his gaze and would not meet his eyes. Facing Lin Jinghong, somehow he suddenly dared not look into the eyes of that childhood friend.

Watching Ming Li's face, Lin Jinghong grew all the more agitated; his words came out sounding hoarse. "Xiaofan, you..."

Ming Li's body gave a shudder, and he could not help raising his head. What met his eyes was that familiar face, in which there was now not the least trace of hostility—only agitation and joy.

"Jingyu..." he said, his voice rough.

In these ten years, cultivating at the Patriarch's Hall on Canglan Mountain, Lin Jinghong had imagined countless times what it would be like to meet Zhang Qingyue again. He had asked himself again and again: how was he to face Zhang Qingyue, who had entered the demon path?

With righteous and evil irreconcilable—draw swords and fight to the death?

Or with patient pleading, urging him back to the righteous path?

But now that they had met at last, he could not utter a single word. The years past rose one scene after another, quietly welling up in his heart; and in the end what fixed itself there was not Canglan Mountain, not sword-flight through the air, not ranging across heaven and earth—but two boyhood friends, running and laughing in that ruined thatched temple!

Time is like sand—has it worn away the thing you treasured most in your heart?

The friend of childhood, the brother of former days, stood before him now, after ten years.

Lin Jinghong stepped forward, his face alight with an agitation he had never shown before—so much so that even Ming Li seemed moved by it, his body trembling faintly. Perhaps, in Ming Li's heart, there was agitation of the same kind?

Beside Ming Li, Jin Pingyue's brows knitted slightly. She had, of course, no interest in the feelings of these two brothers; but seeing the situation, the righteous cultivators seemed to have numbers on their side, and if something went wrong for Ming Li now, she would be left alone and outmatched.

She gave a light cough. "Ah! Young Master Ming Li, I never thought you would reach this place before us. Might I ask—have you laid hands on that strange treasure?"

At these words, both Lin Jinghong and Ming Li started; Facheng and Zeng Shuyan looked at once to Lu Xueling, and when she slowly shook her head, they were reassured.

A single simple question had suddenly dragged them all back to reality. Ming Li closed his eyes briefly; when he opened them again, a faint red gleam flickered there, and his gaze had turned sharp. He gave Lin Jinghong one deep look, then at last turned away and would look at him no more. Instead he stepped back, until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Jin Pingyue.

Jin Pingyue smiled faintly. Her eyes were limpid as water, and their glance roved and settled, seeming to spill altogether upon Ming Li. "Are you all right?" she asked softly.

Ming Li gave a snort. "You and I cooperate for now—how about it?"

Jin Pingyue answered at once, "Good. When this is over, we two will talk again."