Chapter 30 — Strange Arts
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 5 of 8
Though they had long since seen the rod and examined it, the folk of Dazhu Peak—and most of the onlookers—were seeing Zhang Qingyue work his arts for the first time. Du Bi said, "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd never believe that the clumsy little junior brother of two years ago had suddenly become a heaven-sent prodigy."
On the stage, Lu Xueqi's face was stern, her hand seals firm as a mountain. Then Tianxuan, blazing in midair, suddenly wheeled about and, swift as lightning, charged at Zhang Qingyue with the force of one splitting mountains and cleaving seas.
The dark iron rod rose at once to meet it, and its blue-green radiance clashed with that blaze of blue in midair—and by the look of it, it did not fear it in the least.
The next moment, to the crowd's astonishment, Zhang Qingyue seemed to crumple at a single blow. As though gravely wounded, he was flung backward through the air, and the dark iron rod lost its luster, spinning darkly through the air back toward its master.
In an instant, everyone from Dazhu Peak was on their feet, and the hotheaded ones, Du Bi among them, cried out aloud.
Zhang Qingyue's back struck the pillar of the platform, and he fell. A sweetness rose in his throat, and he spat a mouthful of blood, which spattered onto the returning dark iron rod and flecked it with red—and then, unseen by any, Zhang Qingyue's blood seeped swiftly into it.
Such was the might of Tianxuan that all were struck dumb with shock!
Lu Xueqi's face was cold as frost, and she did not hesitate. With a flash of blue light, Tianxuan slashed down mercilessly through the air. But at that very moment, black qi suddenly billowed from the dark iron rod, and at its tip the blue-green glow blazed brighter still. Zhang Qingyue, a thread of blood at the corner of his mouth, rose slowly to his feet—his face pale, but his eyes bloodshot, his whole aspect now somewhat savage.
Quick as a blink, the black iron staff hurtled once more toward Tianxuan through the swirling black mist and blue radiance. The instant the two treasures met in midair they rebounded from each other, and where they stood behind, both Lu Xueqi and Zhang Qingyue shook violently from head to foot.
Blue light flickered and green flared across the sky, the two treasures hurtling back and forth, and wherever they passed the great timbers of the platform—harder than most stone—scattered like paper scraps. Boom after boom cracked like thunder from a clear sky, deafening all who heard. The near thousand Canglan Sect disciples watching turned pale; never since the great trial began had any bout started so fiercely, nor had any field been so magnificent. In mere moments a platform vast enough to hold a thousand men was torn apart, near seven parts of it wrecked by these two peerless treasures.
The onlookers below had drawn back a distance. Zhang Qingyue and Lu Xueqi now both floated in midair. Lu Xueqi held her sword incantation in both hands, controlling Tianxuan with all her strength, her bearing grave yet graceful. Zhang Qingyue, by contrast, seemed strange indeed: mighty as the black iron staff's power was—beyond all expectation—he did not grip any incantation as Lu Xueqi did. Instead he hung in the air flailing arms and legs like a man possessed, and the black staff obeyed his every whim, swift as lightning, clashing with Tianxuan in furious joy.