Chapter 39 — The Abyss
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 6
Zhang Qingyue stared blankly at those drifting ghost-lights, and remembered the last thing in his mind before he lost consciousness: Lu Xueqi flying toward him, catching his hand; and the boundless, bottomless dark abyss beneath them as they fell. He even vaguely remembered that before he lost awareness, a familiar invocation of the Buddha's name had rung out on that platform.
That would be Senior Brother Facheng and the other three arriving, surely.
Zhang Qingyue said this to himself inwardly. With the strong aid of those four, and with Qi Hao and Zeng Fa, they should be safe enough. And if Senior Brother Qi was unharmed, then surely Senior Sister Ling'er would not grieve?
But — but — almost in the same breath Zhang Qingyue asked himself: if I die, will Senior Sister Ling'er grieve? Perhaps she would feel some sorrow. After all, these past years he had spent day and night at her side, and he knew well that this senior sister — beautiful and proud as she was — had, in her heart, a gentle and fragile side as well.
If she heard that her junior brother Zhang Qingyue, whom she had grown up playing with, had died untimely, surely she would shed a few tears? Surely her heart would ache? Surely, finding no body, she would raise a grave for him there on Dazhu Peak?
Who knew how many times, in the years to come, she would come before that grave?
And if so — would he himself become like these yin spirits around him, clinging to her, unwilling to be reborn, lingering only about that grave, secretly hoping for the figure in his memory?
In the silent darkness, the youth sighed — low, and known to no one.
"Mm."
She gave a soft cry, and slowly woke, and opened her eyes.
Down through the ages there has been an old question: when you wake at last from a long, long sleep, who is the first person you wish to see?
No one knew whether Lu Xueqi had ever heard this seemingly pointless question; but at this moment, reflected in her eyes, there in the pale ghostly light, was Zhang Qingyue's anxious gaze.
It was the only warmth in the darkness!
Zhang Qingyue's face lit up with joy. "You're awake, Senior Sister Lu!" he said gladly.
Lu Xueqi did not answer at once. She seemed to stare blankly for a moment, but very quickly she recovered herself, and her expression shifted from its first faint bewilderment back to that somewhat cold, frosty reserve. But as she looked around her, she could not help being moved once more.
"Yin spirits!" Lu Xueqi cried out, just as Zhang Qingyue had before.
Zhang Qingyue nodded and comforted her: "Yes. But don't be afraid — they seem rather scared of my — my Black Iron Rod, so we should be safe for the moment."
Lu Xueqi now saw for herself that the countless drifting yin spirits indeed did not rush at them, but only circled at the outer edge, seeming greatly in fear of that short black rod of Zhang Qingyue's. Once her mind was settled she could not help asking, "What is this magic treasure of yours called? How is it so powerful?"
Zhang Qingyue reddened. "It's — it's — I call it... the Black Iron Rod. And I don't know myself how it comes to be so powerful."
Lu Xueqi said in wonder, "The Black Iron Rod?"
Zhang Qingyue looked at the woman before him in the pale ghostly light — skin like snow, and though somewhat pale, all the more beautiful for it — and could not keep himself from lowering his head. "Yes. I used to be in charge of the cooking on Dazhu Peak, and I used it as a fire poker."
Lu Xueqi was struck speechless. She stared blankly at that ugly short black rod hanging in midair, and after a long while said softly, "A fire poker! I received the true teachings of my master, I cultivated through bitter hardship, and I had the Heaven's Dipper Divine Sword — and I was defeated by a fire poker?"