Chapter 57 — To Sea
劍問蒼天 · Page 5 of 6
Stretching, he stood up and strolled onto the beach, gazing into the distance. The seascape at dusk was utterly different from the day. The setting sun was like blood; along the western horizon at the edge of the sea it dyed a great expanse of cloud and water red. The clouds rose and billowed, shifting into every shape, transforming without end. The sea wind blew in from the water, and Zhang Qingyue could not help opening his arms and breathing deeply.
A feeling of ease and comfort filled his body. In a place that seemed like a hidden paradise, his whole being seemed to relax.
In that moment, he could not help thinking: if only he could live in this tranquil place, spending each day in the company of Senior Sister Ling'er, watching this beautiful sunset, his life would truly not have been lived in vain.
At the thought of Tian Lingsu, Zhang Qingyue's heart warmed again. It had been more than a month since he came down from the mountain. From the day he entered the Canglan Sect, he had never been parted from his senior sister for so long. Now, on this quiet little island, thinking that she might be on another island close by, his heart surged at once and could find no peace.
He stood there a long while, and only then did his restless mood slowly settle. Then he heard two rumbles—"gugu"—from his belly. He was hungry. Zhang Qingyue gave a bitter smile. Ever since he had been trapped in the Blood-Drip Cave on Kongsang Mountain, he seemed to grow hungry with unusual ease. Fortunately, he still had enough dry provisions, though his supply of fresh water was running low.
Zhang Qingyue looked all around, and at last his gaze fell upon the fruit of those tall, towering trees. He leaped up and plucked several.
To his surprise, the shells were extremely hard. In the end he had to smash one against a rock a dozen times or more before it cracked open, and what flowed out was a white juice. Zhang Qingyue was overjoyed and drained a whole fruit in one breath. It carried a faint astringency, he found, yet the taste was sweet—a rare delicacy indeed.
With this natural bounty, Zhang Qingyue ate his fill in contentment. Seeing the sky grow dark, he decided to set out again the next day.
By now the light was fading, and the sea breeze against his body grew colder by the moment. Zhang Qingyue frowned and walked toward the woods, but after a moment's hesitation he did not go in. He found a sheltered spot at the edge instead and lay down to rest.
The night deepened. The bright moon rose in the east, and the sky was full of stars that seemed like mischievous children, popping out one after another to blink in the night sky.
Having slept most of the afternoon, Zhang Qingyue could not fall asleep now. He tossed and turned, and his mind could not help returning to what Wan Rengui had said to him that day at the roadside tea stall on the ancient road.
He picked up the black iron staff thrust at his waist. By the faint light of the stars, he saw that the staff, originally black, now gave off a dim, deep blue-green radiance. The red threads within it, like veins, seemed at this moment to have come alive, as though fresh blood were flowing through them.
Was this, then, the essence blood Wan Rengui had spoken of—mine?
Zhang Qingyue murmured the words low in his heart, and for a moment a hundred feelings assailed him. He remembered the scene in that hidden valley with perfect clarity: the Blood-Devouring Pearl drawing a great quantity of blood from the palm of his hand...
Zhang Qingyue's body trembled. He shook his head hard, unwilling to dwell on those memories any longer.
And yet the magic artifact still lay so plainly before him, and even that singular chill still moved through his body with such familiarity, as though it were a part of him.
That day he had spoken fine, high-sounding words to Wan Rengui, but when it came to himself, it was not so easy to bear.