Chapter 100 — The Dark Serpent
劍問蒼天 · Page 4 of 7
All four were familiar figures. The one in front, alone, was a young woman of soft and alluring charm—none other than Jin Pingyue of the demon cult's Enchantment Sect. Those following her were of the righteous path, and not only did Lu Xueling know them—even Ming Li knew them.
Facheng, Zeng Shuyan, and—stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze never once leaving Ming Li—Lin Jinghong!
The clearing suddenly fell silent.
Ming Li's gaze went to them, and complex expressions rose on the faces of Facheng and the others—joy, and astonishment, and one emotion after another fleeting across their features.
Jin Pingyue's lovely eyes swept the scene. Given Ming Li's standing and power within the Nether King Sect, she of course knew his origins inside and out, and she knew something as well of the old entanglements between Ming Li and the righteous-path cultivators now present.
Reading the situation, she pondered briefly, and her feet had already quietly shifted toward Ming Li, until she stood beside him.
On the righteous side, Facheng and Lu Xueling both frowned slightly at Jin Pingyue's movement, but still said nothing.
It was Lin Jinghong, standing farthest back, who broke the silence.
In his eyes, it seemed, Jin Pingyue's figure could not be seen at all; there was only the Zhang Qingyue of former days standing before him. He took a few slow steps forward, his lips moving, as though even to speak cost him some effort.
"You... are you well?"
Ming Li slowly withdrew his gaze and would not meet his eyes. Facing Lin Jinghong, somehow he suddenly dared not look into the eyes of that childhood friend.
Watching Ming Li's face, Lin Jinghong grew all the more agitated; his words came out sounding hoarse. "Xiaofan, you..."
Ming Li's body gave a shudder, and he could not help raising his head. What met his eyes was that familiar face, in which there was now not the least trace of hostility—only agitation and joy.
"Jingyu..." he said, his voice rough.
In these ten years, cultivating at the Patriarch's Hall on Canglan Mountain, Lin Jinghong had imagined countless times what it would be like to meet Zhang Qingyue again. He had asked himself again and again: how was he to face Zhang Qingyue, who had entered the demon path?
With righteous and evil irreconcilable—draw swords and fight to the death?
Or with patient pleading, urging him back to the righteous path?
But now that they had met at last, he could not utter a single word. The years past rose one scene after another, quietly welling up in his heart; and in the end what fixed itself there was not Canglan Mountain, not sword-flight through the air, not ranging across heaven and earth—but two boyhood friends, running and laughing in that ruined thatched temple!
Time is like sand—has it worn away the thing you treasured most in your heart?
The friend of childhood, the brother of former days, stood before him now, after ten years.
Lin Jinghong stepped forward, his face alight with an agitation he had never shown before—so much so that even Ming Li seemed moved by it, his body trembling faintly. Perhaps, in Ming Li's heart, there was agitation of the same kind?
Beside Ming Li, Jin Pingyue's brows knitted slightly. She had, of course, no interest in the feelings of these two brothers; but seeing the situation, the righteous cultivators seemed to have numbers on their side, and if something went wrong for Ming Li now, she would be left alone and outmatched.
She gave a light cough. "Ah! Young Master Ming Li, I never thought you would reach this place before us. Might I ask—have you laid hands on that strange treasure?"
At these words, both Lin Jinghong and Ming Li started; Facheng and Zeng Shuyan looked at once to Lu Xueling, and when she slowly shook her head, they were reassured.