劍問蒼天 - 第37章 怪目 - 清風書屋

And now this man lying dead on the ground before them — the bloodsucker, self-styled sole heir of Blood Drain — had in the blink of an eye had every drop of his vital essence drained from him. From what the two of them knew, such mastery far surpassed this dead Jiang the Third; even the legendary Old Demon of Blood Drain, they feared, might not command such power. And yet this lad of Qingyun Sect before them showed none of the malignant, perverse aura of the Blood Drain lineage.

Daoist Wild Wolf looked at Zhang Qingyue. "Are you a disciple of the Old… Old Senior of Blood Drain?"

Zhang Qingyue was taken aback. "What Old Senior of Blood Drain?"

Daoist Wild Wolf opened his dog's mouth and rolled his long tongue about outside it. Watching, Zhang Qingyue could not help but think of Big Yellow, the great dog on Dazhu Peak back on Canglan Mountain. But even as the thought crossed his mind, a shrill scream came abruptly from behind them in the cavern; a flying sword flashed, and a black-clad figure came tumbling out of the darkness, his face streaming with blood. He struggled a few times on the ground, and it was plain he would not live.

Zhang Qingyue came suddenly to his senses: his fellow disciples were fighting for their lives, and here he stood chatting with these demonic heretics — what a fool he was. At once he sprang up, meaning to go to their aid.

Daoist Wild Wolf and the tall man, seeing Zhang Qingyue move so abruptly, were both startled, thinking he meant to launch a surprise attack, and hastily braced themselves. But they saw that he had no sooner stirred than he came down again with a grimace, dropping to one knee and sucking in his breath sharply, cold sweat starting out on his forehead.

It was this: in his urgency Zhang Qingyue had forgotten that the little dark-red fork was still buried in the flesh of his shoulder. The instant he moved, the pain knifed to the very marrow and brought him down again, and the blood that had for a time stopped now welled afresh from the wrenched wound.

Seeing this golden opportunity, how could Daoist Wild Wolf and the tall man let it slip? Better to kill in error than let slip — murderous light rose in both their eyes, and the flying sword and the fang in their hands blazed once more.

But at that very moment a clear, crisp whistle came suddenly from behind, and there in the darkness, amid the motley lights, a dazzling blue radiance blazed forth, brilliant and resplendent, instantly bearing down every other gleam. Within the blue light, "Tianxuan" flashed proudly from its sheath, and behind it, high in the air, Lu Xueqi stood poised in midair, peerless in bearing, the whole of her garments snapping and streaming, dancing on the wind.

As Daoist Wild Wolf and the tall man gaped, the divine sword Tianxuan surged with blue light, conjuring a vast blue blade of light that came crashing down into the darkness. At once a host of motley lights leapt up to meet it, but the moment they touched that immense, pure blue radiance they were annihilated into ash. Wild shrieks rang out, five or six figures came hurtling from the shadows, and with a great "boom" the blue blade struck the stone wall; rubble flew everywhere, the force of it terrifying. And of those who had leapt out, almost every one was wounded. At the same moment the white light of Qi Hao's Frost Sword flared, and he came charging out from the flank; wherever his sword-light passed, several cultists were frozen into sticks of ice — and Zeng Shuyan, flying his sword swift as the wind behind him, smashed them to pieces one by one.

The tall man before Zhang Qingyue and Daoist Wild Wolf exchanged a glance, and together they abandoned Zhang Qingyue and charged up, sending the yellow flying sword and the gray fang aloft at once to hold off the assault of Qi Hao and Zeng Shuyan.