Chapter 167 — Decisive Battle
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 4 of 5
Except—that one faintly glimpsed finger!
In the world swallowed by boundless Buddha-light, deep within the golden radiance, there was still a wisp of black vapor, fine as smoke and dust, drifting lightly upward, flickering in and out of sight, now there and now not, spiraling to the front of the Great Compassion Golden Wheel, and gently, upon the Buddha's countenance, between the brows of that kindly, compassionate face, it touched down.
That single touch was as a grain in the vast ocean, as a mustard seed within Mount Sumeru—so utterly insignificant beside the Buddha-light that filled the sky. Yet Abbess Pucheng's face drained in an instant, her whole countenance turning ashen, like dead embers.
And so all saw that amid the splendor, heaven and earth suddenly quaked, the Buddha-light shuddered, and that monk who looked almost like an immortal spat out a great mouthful of blood with a retching cry, dyeing the treasure wheel before her crimson.
The wild wind quietly died away; the chaotic world grew still, and the golden light gently scattered in wavering drifts. Abbess Pucheng's lips trembled slightly, her body seemed to stagger, and she drew back; behind her Facheng and the others had already rushed up to support her.
Master Pucheng gave a faint, bitter smile, joined his palms toward the void ahead, and said, "Your magic power is formidable, benefactor—truly the greatest I have seen in all my years. I am in awe, in awe!"
On Jietian Peak of Canglan Mountain, countless disciples of the righteous path erupted in an uproar.
In midair, the golden light receded and black vapor was reborn, leaping forth as if from the void itself. With a shrill howl, that enormous demonic beast appeared once more—hard to fathom how a body so huge could have vanished from sight entirely during such a fierce exchange of magic, and now stood reborn, alive and whole.
And atop its head, the figure whom every righteous cultivator under heaven now watched with sidelong shock grew ever paler, and for the first time a trace of weariness showed faintly on that cold face; only his eyes remained as chill and unreadable as ever. Yet when his gaze fell upon Master Pucheng, he did stir, very slightly, and gave a cold snort.
"The cultivation arts of the Central Plains are indeed not without their merits."
Master Pucheng shook his head slightly. He had meant to offer a few words of persuasion, but seeing the other's expression, he knew it would be useless, and so withdrew, supported by Facheng and the others.
Of the three great leaders of the righteous path, two had now already come off the worse at the hands of this mysterious and uncanny demon. For a time, every face on Jietian Peak had changed color. Among the beast-demons, meanwhile, ten thousand throats roared as one, their ferocity and momentum surging high.
It was then that a roar burst skyward from behind the crowd. Beneath the Yuheng Hall on Jietian Peak, in the waters of the Cold Ice Pool, a great whirlpool suddenly appeared, the water spinning faster and faster, and that roar—like a dragon's cry and a tiger's howl at once—grew louder and louder, until it forcibly drowned out the voices of the countless beast-demons before it.
Then the waters of the Cold Ice Pool surged upward with a thunderous roar, a column of water shooting straight into the sky to a height of tens of zhang, where it gathered and held, blooming like a wild flower—and from it emerged the vast form of the Water Qilin, the Spirit Venerable, guardian beast of Canglan Mountain.
The Qingyun disciples on Jietian Peak were first stunned, then wild with joy, shouting aloud, their spirits soaring. Beneath the gaze of ten thousand eyes, the Water Qilin raised its head and gave a long cry to the blue heavens, then tossed its head and waved its tail, flew forward from the water column, and descended from the clouds.