Chapter 128 — Tracking
劍問蒼天 · Page 5 of 5
Behind him a monstrous beast slowly emerged: four feet planted on the ground, protruding claws exceedingly sharp, back and loins arched, and atop a long, thick neck a gigantic head. At first glance one might almost take it for the divine dragon of Central Plains legend; a closer look revealed the difference. The beast had a bloody maw and exceedingly sharp teeth, and its eyes flashed with a fierce light from time to time as it scanned its surroundings warily, as though seeking someone to devour.
The witch-fiend, standing before this monstrous beast, was scarcely a third of its height. Yet for some reason, the vicious dragon was utterly deferential to this man in black.
The witch-fiend seemed to share the wariness of the vicious dragon beside him. He too was carefully surveying the surroundings, and only after confirming that no one had followed them did he turn and nod to the dragon. "Let's go back."
A low rumble rose from deep in the dragon's throat, which presumably counted as assent—though the sound was so like a roar that it was deafening.
The witch-fiend was plainly long accustomed to the dragon's ways. A moment later his form flickered and vanished into the stone cave, melting into the darkness. The dragon, however, was too vast in body to squeeze into the cave. Just as it seemed about to make some move, its body suddenly went rigid and it stopped short.
With a great yet low growl, the ferocious dragon slowly turned. Something seemed to have startled the sensitive beast; now, wearing a savage look, it again scanned its surroundings, its nostrils above its jaws twitching ceaselessly—plainly keen of scent, sniffing at something in the air.
But all around was silent; nothing happened. After sniffing for a while the dragon found nothing. It seemed puzzled, but after a long while it finally decided to give up. Turning once more, it let out a low roar, drove its four feet hard into the ground, and with a thunderous crash the monstrous beast charged straight up the towering, precipitous mountain range.
Its form was nimble, its huge feet racing; the sharp claws on its feet sank deep into the rock and soil of the mountain like steel spikes, anchoring its body. It ran flying across the mountain ridge, and in the blink of an eye had surged up to a lofty peak, gradually vanishing into a bank of dark clouds.
And at the spot where the dark cave stood, a long while later, from behind a clump of flowers and grass in the distance, a long sigh suddenly escaped—as though someone had been tense for quite some time and only now relaxed.
A moment later, the pale yellow figure of Jin Pingyue drifted out from the flowers and grass and alighted outside the dark cave. Facing that dark cave, a thoughtful expression gradually surfaced on her face. After a long while, she seemed to reach a decision; she set her jaw, her figure wavered, and she too drifted into the cave, stealing quietly toward that mysterious world.