劍問蒼天 - 第38章 死靈淵 - 清風書屋

But here and now, the big man sought to use the Crimson Demon Eye's red beams against the staff, and so of course achieved nothing. And this was only because Zhang Qingyue was young and ignorant, carrying a great treasure without knowing it. Had it been that ancient patriarch of the demon sect, Old Man Blackheart, from a thousand years before, with the Blooddevourer Pearl alone he would have needed only a few waves of it to drain the big man dry, leaving him shriveled to skin and bone, with nothing left but a Crimson Demon Eye spinning round and round upon his corpse.

Yet not a soul present could have dreamed of such bizarre things. The big man was concentrating on the fight, yet still could not stop Zhang Qingyue from slowly, step by step, drawing near — when the young man who had stood silent at the side from the very beginning, his face steeped in wickedness, suddenly sneered: "Elder Nian, that Crimson Demon Eye of yours is all show and no substance. You can't even deal with a few Canglan youngsters, and you had the nerve to lecture Wild Dog just now. I say you may as well hand your sect-leader's seat over to me."

The big man and the beautiful young woman beside him both changed color. The woman frowned first and said: "Daoist Lin Feng, the enemy is right before us — how can you say such things at a time like this?"

Lin Feng, his face full of wickedness, cast a sidelong glance toward the Canglan Sect group, letting his eyes linger a moment longer on Lu Xueqi, then sneered: "If these yellow-haired brats count as a great enemy, then on what grounds does our Blood Refining Hall stand within the sacred sect of the immortals, and what is this talk of restoring the great work that Patriarch Blackheart founded a thousand years ago?"

The man surnamed Nian shot a red beam at Zhang Qingyue, briefly halting his advance, then snarled at Lin Feng: "All you know is big talk — what else can you do? Why don't you come up here and try?"

A strange smile spread over Lin Feng's pale face. "Fine. I'll make you acknowledge it with all your heart."

As he spoke he drew from his sleeve a gold-traced fan and fanned himself with it.

The Canglan Sect group had heard every word, and all of them had grown warier of this young man steeped in wickedness. But after a good while, they saw only that he went on waving his fan, unhurried and unruffled, looking quite elegant and not stirring a step. They were all struck dumb.

Could it be that Lin Feng really was all talk after all?

Elder Nian was angrier still, half dead with fury. "Lin Feng, if you haven't the skill, then stand aside! I can deal with these Canglan brats myself. I don't need your snide remarks from the sidelines — and you might look to your own abilities first!"

Lin Feng's expression changed. He gave a cold snort. "I didn't want to join hands with you in the first place — winning that way would be no victory at all. But since you won't believe me otherwise, I suppose I must show you a trick or two."

With that he tossed the gold-traced fan carelessly into the air. The whole fan gave off a faint golden light, and with a swish it opened.

Upon the gold-traced face of the fan, painted in fine meticulous strokes, were a mountain, a river, and a great roc — the brushwork exquisite, the images vivid as life.

The wind rose. The clouds surged. Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed.

This was deep beneath the earth, within an ancient cavern — no such wonders should have appeared here. Yet now, before the eyes and ears of the four from the Canglan Sect, they did. And in the midst of their shock came a tremendous crash: the precious fan trembled in midair, and a moment later the great mountain painted upon it came bodily forth. It swelled at the touch of wind, and with a rumbling roar grew into a hill a hundred zhang high, all but filling that vast space — then came crushing down upon the four of the Canglan Sect like Mount Tai itself.