Chapter 157 — The Secret
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 6
Above the house, that mote of ghost-fire burned coldly, its green light shining faintly down. Amid the dancing white bones, Ming Li's figure too seemed to take on a steadily stranger, more sinister air—but be that as it may, to this moment Master Ghost still had no way to deal with him. From within the coffin came a cold snort from Master Ghost.
Suddenly the ghost-fire in midair blazed bright. The two giant skeletal arms, which had been dancing and pursuing, jerked to a halt—then came what seemed a mournful cry, and with a piercing crack-crack-crack-crack, countless fissures appeared over both arms from top to bottom. In an instant they crumbled into numberless fragments, their edges razor-sharp, like a rain of bone from the heavens, or a swarm of man-eating bees, sweeping down upon Ming Li in a dense onslaught.
Zhou Yixuan and the other two went pale; Xiaowan even cried out in alarm. In that tiny house, dodging two giant arms had already been hard enough—now that they had become a heaven-filling rain of bone shards, thick beyond counting, how could anyone escape?
Ming Li's face was cold as frost. Watching that sky full of bone fragments, just as they were about to reach him, he suddenly plummeted from midair straight for the ground, swift as lightning. The countless bone shards checked themselves in midair, as if sentient, emitting a shrill sound, abruptly halting their momentum, wheeling about in the air, and diving after him.
In the blink of an eye Ming Li struck the ground, but before his body could steady, he slapped a palm against the floor and shot away skimming along the ground—and the direction he flew was precisely toward the coffin where Master Ghost was.
The ghost-fire in midair shuddered, then came smashing down like lightning, while behind him the countless bone shards came howling in pursuit like the wind. The gale set the whole house shuddering. Ming Li's robes flapped and cracked in the wind—but at this moment, with a blocker ahead and pursuers behind, he suddenly hurled the treasure in his hand, the Soul-devouring Black Staff. The force was immense, and uncanny power drove it on; the Blood-devouring Bead at the staff's tip swirled a dark red, every thread and trace of blood-light kindling one by one—the very picture of demonic power at its height.
Only, the direction the Soul-devourer flew was toward the corner where Zhou Yixuan and the other two were. Zhou Yixuan, Xiaowan, and the Wild Wolf Daoist had not yet reacted when they saw a streak of black light come rushing at them. Before it even drew near, the air around them was filled with an utterly bizarre chill, and a nameless demonic force seemed to tug at the vital blood in their bodies like a fiend, as though it would burst out of them.
In an instant the Soul-devourer was upon them—thunk—and buried itself in the wall right beside Zhou Yixuan's head, sinking in almost completely.
Zhou Yixuan turned ashen with fright, forgetting even to curse Ming Li. In a flash he felt a chill run from his head down to his feet; the black staff by his ear seemed to have invisible hands, trying to drag him toward it. Terrified, he wrenched his body aside with all his strength, and only then did he gasp for breath.
And at that moment, the bone shards that had filled the air and that mote of ghost-fire, which had been sweeping down like a landslide and a tidal wave, suddenly stopped dead, frozen in midair. A moment later, from within the wall came a faint, pained grunt, and a human-shaped clod of earth flew whole out of the wall and lunged at Ming Li. The countless bone shards, as though drained of their spiritual power, pattered to the ground—only the ghost-fire, which seemed instead to burn a shade brighter, flew back to hover above the clod of earth.