Chapter 221 — Rescue

In the darkness, as the white figure shifted gently, Lu Xueling's slender, pale hand slowly came to rest upon the coffin's wooden boards. And almost at once—though the motion should have been utterly silent—a small yet exceedingly crisp sound came suddenly from within the coffin.

As though some wooden strip had split apart.

Lu Xueling's face changed. The hand touching the boards snapped back with incredible speed, and just as it withdrew, a mass of black qi burst violently forth from the place her palm had touched. A hissing sound rose without cease—it was burning there in that little patch like a ghost fire, without flame, yet burning a palm-shaped brand into the wood, exactly the size of Lu Xueling's hand.

The witch demon, trapped inside the coffin, felt a chill at heart. The arts he practiced were rather similar in nature to this restrictive demonic power, though their might could not be mentioned in the same breath. Still, watching that colorless black fire flare up and die away in an instant, he could not suppress a shudder. What the consequences would be of that black fire touching a body, he could more or less imagine—but what baffled him utterly was why, when he had fled into this coffin earlier, this uncanny and vicious barrier had not been triggered against him, and yet now that Lu Xueling had come, it was so keenly roused.

He was still turning this over bitterly in his mind, unable to find an answer, when of a sudden he sensed something. He looked down—and there, upon the mysterious fat man beneath him, some strange change seemed to be taking place in response to the activation of these barriers.

A dense, foul yin energy surged forth, a hundred times stronger than that faint presence from before, instantly filling the coffin in which they were now confined. The witch demon felt a great roar in his head, as though his mind had gone blank in an instant; countless icy, venomous breaths bored into his body like vipers, savagely sinking their fangs into every meridian, and the pain was unbearable—yet he could not even cry out. For a moment, he felt that death itself would have been preferable.

And the source of this yin energy was, astonishingly, emanating from within that mysterious fat man's body.

Lu Xueling stared at the black palm print, her face slightly pale. Xiaobai, standing far behind her, slowly straightened from the doorframe, her face turning grave.

A moment later, Lu Xueling seemed suddenly to sense something; her body jolted and her expression changed drastically, yet she did not retreat or dodge. Without the slightest hesitation, she reversed her grip and turned her hand—qiang lang—like the cry of a dragon, a pale radiance bloomed, and soft blue light scattered in all directions, lighting the dark little room at once.

Tianxuan was unsheathed!

Amid the rising auspicious vapor, the autumn-water blade mirrored Lu Xueling's face, cold as frost and snow. The sword light, too, was like water—like ripples stirring on an autumn pond in midair—and after a brief pause it split into endless phantom streaks of sword light, chopping down toward the coffin.

Chopping, and yet it seemed to lack the force of cleaving mountains and shattering stone. As the sword light swept nearer, something within that mysterious coffin seemed to sense the threat, and a fine crackling sound began to rise.

A mass of black qi burst abruptly upward from the coffin, and as though it had substance, it actually caught the divine sword Tianxuan in midair. Lu Xueling's expression shifted slightly; she gave a clear cry, and her body suddenly soared aloft, white robes fluttering, like a fairy.

Where she had stood moments before, within a three-foot circle, the hissing sound burst out—that whole round patch had been burned beyond recognition by a mass of black qi that had come from who knew where.

A stench of scorching filled the little room.

Lu Xueling, aloft, was not flustered. The divine sword Tianxuan blazed with blue light; it traced a small half-circle in the air and thrust downward.

By now the air around the coffin was all gloomy black qi, rolling like clouds—who knew how such a mass of yin energy had surged forth in mere moments. Above, blue light flashed like lightning as Tianxuan's radiance stabbed down; below, the black qi did not yield either, as if directed by some invisible hand, converging from all sides toward the middle of the coffin like a black wall blocking Tianxuan's path.

Just as the divine sword and the black qi were about to collide, the tip of Tianxuan touched that wall of black qi and, abruptly, as though meeting a spring, Lu Xueling's entire body floated back upward like a weightless feather. And as her figure rose, her left hand suddenly pressed two fingers together like a blade; in an instant a faint layer of gold flashed across her lovely eyes and vanished. From her palm issued a blue light—the purest of the Canglan Sect's Taiji Xuanqing Dao—and she drove it clean through the weaker part of the black qi on the flank.

Bang!

The black qi churned at once, followed by several low, muffled thuds—something had shattered apart.

At the doorway, Xiaobai's lips curved in a faint smile; she nodded slightly, as though in approval. On the other side, however, Zhou Yixuan, standing behind Xiaowan and the Wild Wolf Daoist, suddenly knit his brows, as though he had seen something puzzling; doubt flickered in his eyes, and then he sank into deep thought.

Having been struck by Lu Xueling's unexpected surprise attack, the black qi seemed not to have anticipated it either. In its fury it turned at once from defense to offense, a vast dark mass surging like a storm cloud toward the white figure in midair.

Lu Xueling halted in midair; a fierce wind met her face, her lovely hair streaming. Without a moment's hesitation, her figure seemed buoyed by some invisible force and shot upward—hong long!—with a scene utterly at odds with her delicate form, the whole ruined roof of the mortuary was blown apart in an instant, splintered wood and debris raining down, dust like rain. Only that white figure, like a faint drifting cloud, soared into the sky, and beneath the pale starlight of the heavens looked more ethereal still, as though transcending the dust of the world.

The black qi chased her barely a zhang into the air before it seemed to lose its strength; the night wind swept across the empty plain, and in a moment it had scattered the black qi away.

Lu Xueling's figure paused briefly high in the air; with a clear cry, she swooped down once more toward the little room.

By now Xiaobai had long since leaped out from the doorway and stood far off with hands clasped behind her, watching. Zhou Yixuan and the other two looked far more bedraggled, scurrying to dodge the countless pieces of rotting timber and refuse suddenly raining from the sky.

Amid this flurry, Lu Xueling's figure had already rushed back into the room. Her crisp, sharp cries came suddenly; in an instant, blue light blazed from within the room, splitting into countless streaks that shot out from the house. A moment later came a thunderous crash from inside, faintly accompanied by Lu Xueling's call, tinged with delight: "Uncle-Master Tian, it really is you!"

Zhou Yixuan and the others stood far off, making sure they would not be struck by the falling debris, before turning to look back. The room, so utterly chaotic a moment before, was now slowly calming. After a while, that dazzling blue radiance gradually faded as well; then, from the doorway, one person emerged first.

It was not Lu Xueling, but a mysterious figure all in black, face covered as well, features indiscernible. Zhou Yixuan and the other two did not recognize him; but Xiaobai gave a cold snort, and without any visible movement, her body suddenly appeared in front of the witch demon just as he was about to move, blocking his way.

The witch demon glanced at Xiaobai, gave a bitter laugh, and halted his steps.