Chapter 171 — Eleven
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 7
Lin Jinghong was both startled and enraged. Over the past ten years Ming Li had turned his back on Qingyun, thrown in with the demonic sect, and set himself against the righteous way—yet he had never openly clashed with Qingyun, and Lin Jinghong had all along been cultivating in the Ancestral Master Hall. So although the two had met once in the Death Marsh of the southwest, it could be said they had never truly crossed blades. In Lin Jinghong's heart, Ming Li remained for the most part the wooden, tongue-tied Zhang Qingyue of old.
From childhood on, from Willow Temple Village to the slopes of Canglan Mountain, in what way had Lin Jinghong ever been inferior to Zhang Qingyue? In his heart he had always treated the old Zhang Qingyue as a brother—yet unconsciously, given the proud nature he had borne since boyhood, there were many things in which he looked down on Zhang Qingyue. And for many years events had indeed borne out his thinking: Zhang Qingyue was not as clever as he, not as handsome; when they came up to Canglan Mountain, the many masters vied to take him as a disciple, while no one paid Zhang Qingyue any mind. Later the two went their separate ways—he to Dragon Ridge Peak, Zhang Qingyue to Dazhu Peak—and their cultivation diverged by a vast margin.
All of this showed plainly enough that Zhang Qingyue was truly no match for him. Only later, at the Canglan Mountain Seven Branches Martial Contest, Zhang Qingyue somehow had a stroke of luck and charged into the final four, while he himself met senior brother Qi Hao and was defeated. Though he had felt somewhat gloomy about it, everyone surely knew the reason at the time, and Lin Jinghong's thinking had not changed in the least. All along he had looked on Zhang Qingyue as a brother; when Zhang Qingyue was bullied, he would step forward with righteous indignation, as though minding a younger brother who would never amount to much.
It was not until today, in their rupture and their struggle to the death, that Lin Jinghong discovered to his astonishment that this man who had always stood beneath him had, without his knowing, already come to look as though he might surpass him.
A nameless fire of rage flared abruptly in his heart, and Lin Jinghong's handsome face suddenly turned somewhat savage. Such was his proud nature; its one failing was that he loved extremes too well, and for a moment he simply could not accept this fact.
Azure light blazed up, like a proud dragon's wild roar, striking back in fury.
In the midst of battle, the purple qi pillar around which the two men spiraled—because the Heavenly Mechanism Seal had already been broken—had grown several times thicker than before, its seething purple already cloaking them both. Lin Jinghong, though at a disadvantage, suddenly counterattacked, his sword force surging like mountains toppling and seas overturning. Ming Li was startled; he saw Lin Jinghong move with the sword, blade after blade flying swift, and though the power was immense, he had already cast his own safety to the winds—it was plainly a fight to the death.
Ming Li's brows knit tight. Some time had now passed since the two began fighting. Perhaps because this place was sacred ground of Canglan Mountain, and perhaps because of the purple qi pillar summoned by the ancient Slaying Immortals sword, the murderous qi that had first been roused in Ming Li's heart did not, as it usually did, seize control of his mind; instead, borne along by his own pure cultivation, it slowly ebbed away, and Ming Li's heart gradually cleared.