劍問蒼天 - 第39章 深淵 - 清風書屋

There were countless yin spirits, it seemed, startled from long slumber, and sensing the warmth of a human body for the first time in hundreds of years, they gathered toward this place.

Those wisps of pale, smoky light drifted and wandered, shaping countless faces—man and woman, old and young, fair and foul—yet in Zhang Qingyue's eyes at that moment they woke only one feeling: cold.

The very thought of all those yin spirits rushing upon him and swarming round set his scalp prickling. Happily, once the first terror had passed, he saw that these spirits seemed much afraid of the Black Iron Staff barred before him, and dared not come near the dark blue radiance it gave off. But before he could draw breath, the spirits drifting and circling in midair seemed to sense something else, and one and all flew off toward his left.

Zhang Qingyue started, and then his face changed; the soft hand still gripped in his own had by now grown slowly cold. He pulled hard at once, and with a splash of water drew Lu Xueqi to his side. By the ghostly light around them he saw her face pale, her eyes shut fast, but when he felt for her breath it came fairly steady, and a hasty glance showed no wound upon her; only then did his heart ease, and he turned to survey his surroundings.

He and the still-unconscious Lu Xueqi now found themselves, somehow, at the edge of a sheet of water, whose size the darkness hid from them—whether a small pool, or a great lake, or the vast subterranean sea of legend, he could not tell. He did not know why such a thought should come to him; yet standing in the water he felt that it was not still, for wave upon wave of gentle tide swelled and broke against him like soft hands stroking his body.

And yet the water was cold to the very bone.

Zhang Qingyue struggled to his feet; linger here, and even if the yin spirits did them no harm, the two of them would freeze to death in this water first. The moment he straightened, his head swam and he could not keep himself from swaying.

Up on the platform, his back had been struck at once by Elder Nian, the Wild Wolf Daoist, and Liu Gao, and his hurts were grave indeed. At that same moment the dark blue radiance of the Black Iron Staff dimmed, as though in answer; and almost in the same breath the ghostly lights of the countless yin spirits around them blazed up together, and on every face they had conjured was written an infinite longing.

Zhang Qingyue was startled, and quickly steadied his mind; the staff's radiance kindled once more and overawed the spirits. With an effort he dragged Lu Xueqi toward the shore, and that short distance seemed to him endlessly long.

At last they reached solid ground, and Zhang Qingyue dropped down upon it and gasped for breath.

Around them, beyond the dark blue halo of the Black Iron Staff, countless yin spirits drifted and danced.

Zhang Qingyue stared blankly at those wandering ghost lights, and thought of the last memory in his mind before he lost consciousness—thought how Lu Xueqi had flown to him and caught his hand, thought of the boundless dark abyss beneath them as they fell; he even half remembered that before his senses left him, a familiar Buddha's name had rung out upon that platform.

That would be Senior Brother Facheng and the other three, arrived at last.

So Zhang Qingyue said within himself, and with the four of them to lend their strength, together with Qi Hao and Zeng Fa, all should be well. And if Senior Brother Qi were safe, then surely Senior Sister Ling'er would not grieve?

But—but—even as he thought it, Zhang Qingyue asked himself: if I die, will Senior Sister Ling'er grieve? Perhaps she would feel some sorrow; after all, these years he had been with her day and night, and he knew well that this senior sister, so beautiful and so proud, had in her heart a gentle and a tender side as well.