Chapter 20 — Drawing Lots
劍問蒼天 · Page 2 of 5
A figure in dark green appeared, as though out of thin air, in the air between the Water Qilin and the Qingyun disciples. It was Dao Yan, headmaster of the Canglan Sect. Five years had not altered him in the least; he was as he had always been, crane-boned and immortal in bearing. But now his brows were tightly knit, clearly as puzzled as anyone by the Water Qilin's sudden onslaught. Yet the situation was urgent: behind him stood several dozen of the Canglan Sect's finest young disciples, and before him the shrieking water column rippled with light, faintly revealing the shapes of monstrous beasts—the souls, plainly, of the fierce creatures the Water Qilin had slain in years past, swallowed into its body after death, unable to pass on, now driven into the water column to swell its might. Even Dao Yan, for all his heaven-spanning powers, could not but feel his heart quail.
Seeing the column about to strike, Dao Yan had nowhere to evade. He drew a deep breath and chanted, "Boundless Heavenly Worthy!" He raised both hands, cradling an invisible sphere, fingers of each hand formed into the sword-mudra. Seeming slow, in truth swift, he traced a Taiji diagram before him. In a moment the pattern shone in the void, white light pulsing, auspicious vapor seething. Then Dao Yan spun about; the dark green Daoist robe on his body billowed without wind, then abruptly swept off him. The Taiji diagram in the air, as though commanded, rushed onto the robe and was in that instant branded upon it. This dark green robe was evidently an immortal treasure too, for receiving the diagram, with a whoosh it grew at once with the wind, swelling more than ten times larger in moments, lying broad across the air.
With a heavy splash, the water column the Water Qilin commanded struck the enlarged dark green robe. From within the column came continuous hissing roars, as though those beast-souls were shrieking in furious rage. Under the heavy blow, the robe recoiled several zhang; the spot where the column struck bulged deeply inward, showing plainly the enormity of the force.
The young Qingyun disciples on the steps, nearly stupefied, felt a sudden great gust of wind surge over them; every one of them lost his footing. Apart from a few of deeper cultivation who barely held their ground, most went tumbling left and right. They all paled; had Dao Yan not stepped in to block this thunderous blow of the Water Qilin, who knew what might have come of it.
Zhang Qingyue, face white, lost his footing and pitched sideways. Lin Jinghong caught sight of it from the corner of his eye and reached out to steady him, but his own body lurched, and he toppled the other way instead, too busy saving himself to help.
Zhang Qingyue, badly startled, instinctively let go of the hand he had tucked inside his robes, gripping that "Dark Iron Rod," and flung it out desperately to find something to hold. He did not notice at all that the moment his hand left the rod, the chill sensation vanished without a trace.
In the air, Dao Yan stood stern-faced, braced for anything. Behind him came a series of swishing sounds, and a dozen more figures appeared, standing in the void at his back. Foremost was Cangsong Zhenren; the rest were the six peak lords and the elders of each peak—Tian Buhui and Su Wan among them—every face grave.
All the Canglan masters were gathered here now. In this world, faced with such a display, anyone would have felt the better part of his courage drain away. Yet the Water Qilin, ringed about by the headmaster and peak lords and elders of deep attainment, showed not the slightest fear. But under the gaze of all those eyes, its furious glare suddenly softened, taking on instead a strange look, as though greatly bewildered. The mighty water column before it shrank slowly, and at last lost control and fell to the ground with a splash, soaking the earth.