Chapter 137 — The Heartbroken
劍問蒼天 · Page 1 of 7
Mount Huqi, the headquarters of the Hades Sect.
Three days had passed since the shaman's death. Qinglong had ordered the old man's body cremated, and the ashes kept in an urn. Now that small blue-and-white jar rested quietly on the table beside his hand.
Qinglong gazed at the little urn for a long while, sighed softly, and looked away. In those three days, all affairs of the Hades Sect, great and small, had been handled by him and Yousi. After the upheaval three days before, both the Hades Lord and Mingli had shut themselves in their rooms and had not emerged since.
Qinglong remembered with perfect clarity how, three days ago, the heavy stone door had slowly opened with a creak, and the two men who had stepped out—two men who feared almost nothing in all the world—had looked like souls torn from their bodies, their faces dazed and desolate.
The Hades Lord had at least managed a low "For three days, no one is to disturb me!" With that, he had walked straight to his chamber and not come out again.
As for Mingli, he had been utterly beside himself, not uttering a single word. As he walked he had actually collided head-on with the hard stone wall, so that blood ran down his forehead. Yet he seemed not to notice at all, only turning slowly and stumbling back to his own room.
The crowd, stunned by this eerie spectacle, had in truth mostly guessed the outcome. But when they looked through the stone door and saw the blood pooled across the floor, and the shaman seated upright in that blood, head bowed in death, the sight was so bleak and so savage that it shocked the heart.
Only Bili, still lying on the cold jade platform, remained serene, her lifelike face as tranquil as ever—and the Hehuan Bell in her hand was giving off a faint golden glow.
Footsteps sounded beside him, breaking into Qinglong's thoughts. He looked up to see Yousi drifting in like a ghost and coming to stand at his side. She did not look at him directly, but glanced toward the room behind him, and said softly, "The Sect Master still hasn't come out?"
Qinglong shook his head slowly. "Three days. Not a word."
The black veil over Yousi's face stirred slightly. She said nothing.
Though neither had witnessed the scene with their own eyes, they could both well imagine its desolation.
If there was anything in this world more heartbreaking than despair, it was this: to see hope—to have that hope right before your eyes—and then to be plunged into despair once more.
As the two stood wordless, face to face, a faint sound suddenly came from the door behind Qinglong.
The door was slowly opening.
Qinglong and Yousi started and turned quickly to look.
The plain wooden door swung inward with a low, soft creak, carrying a touch of the weariness of years—perhaps, too, lamenting its master's grief.
A foot stepped lightly out from that room. The Hades Lord's figure slowly emerged before them.
Qinglong and Yousi watched in silence the man who seemed to have returned from another age.
White-haired in three days!
The Hades Lord's hair had turned entirely snow-white.
Qinglong's voice, somehow, had suddenly gone hoarse and halting—and hearing it himself, he wondered whether it was really his own:
"Sect... Master, are you... all right?"
The Hades Lord's lips moved, but he did not speak. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back slightly, and drew a deep breath.
From beneath her black veil, Yousi suddenly said, "Sect Master, you must take care... of yourself." As she spoke, she somehow thought of Bili, and her voice choked.
The Hades Lord's shoulders trembled faintly, but quickly steadied. When he opened his eyes again, though the marks of sorrow and world-weariness were still graven on his face, there was already a faint light in his eyes.
It was a gaze that seemed to have seen through all the vicissitudes of the world.
"I must look... much older now!" That was what he said, his lips stirring in a faint smile—but the smile was full of bitterness.