Chapter 83 — Ten Years
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 5 of 7
Seeing Elder Nian's hesitation, the black-clad man's expression turned cold. Suddenly he said, "Elder Nian, let me counsel you: you face me now, and that is your good fortune. But do you know who commands this assault on Kongsang Mountain?"
Elder Nian's body gave a shudder, and the black-clad man sneered. "You have guessed it, have you not? Indeed—it is the vice sect master of our Hall of the Nether King, Ming Li. Were he to come, your fate would be..."
He had spoken but half when someone beside him gave two soft coughs. The black-clad man's face changed; he seemed to think of something, and his face went a shade whiter—as though even he held a deep dread of that name.
Just then a thick stench of blood suddenly came drifting—from where, none could tell—yet in an instant it filled the vast space entire. Every black-clad man of the Hall of the Nether King straightened at once; even the leader's face went faintly pale, and if one looked closely, the corner of his eye could be seen twitching slightly.
What manner of man could make him so afraid?
Footsteps slowly sounded, as though coming from the fathomless dark depths of the abyss, walking slowly out.
One step, one bloody print!
All the black-clad men parted suddenly like the tide, opening a passage between them.
A dim blue radiance, tinged with a faint red blood-light, rippled gently in the darkness, drifting slowly forward.
The faces of the Blood-Refining Hall's people were ashen, drained of all color.
Ten years ago, the Hall of the Nether King had known no figure named Ming Li. But rumor in the sect held that after the great bloody war between the righteous and the demonic ten years ago, the Nether King, sect master of the Hall of the Nether King, had taken a traitor of the righteous path under his wing, cherishing him as his own son, and had transmitted to him entire the second volume of the Heaven's Book, the classic of the Holy Sect said to have fallen into the Hall's hands.
And this Ming Li, besides advancing in cultivation beyond all belief, had changed utterly in temper—so bloodthirsty and murderous that even the Demonic Sect's own were struck with horror.
In recent years the infighting within the Demonic Sect had grown ever bloodier, and Ming Li—that plain disciple of Canglan Sect in former days—had become the foremost warrior of the Hall of the Nether King, leading its disciples through slaughter after slaughter, annihilating countless factions. The "Soul-Devouring Rod" in his hand (a name the Demonic Sect's people gave it in private) had drunk the blood of untold numbers, and favored as he was by the Nether King, he soon became the man in the Hall of the Nether King second only to one and above all others.
And this man—ten years ago, every one of the Blood-Refining Hall's people here had seen him.
Among the crowd, the Wild Wolf Daoist looked toward him—the man slowly emerging from the darkness, bearing that thick reek of blood, as though it rose from deep within his very body.
Countless people stood in that place, yet not a whisper of sound.
His features were as they had been that year, unchanged; the look of his brow was vivid still. Yet the heart of the Wild Dog began to pound—as though what stood before them was no man at all, but a savage, ravening beast.
"You..."
He spoke his first words slowly, his voice level and grimly cold, echoing through that place: "Will you submit, or not?"
Countless men stood behind him, yet none came near him.
The Blood-Refining Hall's people looked at one another. Sweat poured down Elder Nian; he did not even feel the wounds on his body. But just then a wild cry rang out in the hall: "Go to hell!"
Everyone's face changed. In an instant a blade-flash leaped up from the ground beside Ming Li and stabbed at his belly; the assassin's hair was loose and wild, his face frantic and blank, and both his feet had been hewn off—blood gushing like a fountain.