Chapter 172 — Bloodthirst
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 4 of 6
In fact, on reflection, this was hardly surprising. What a divine artifact the ancient sword Shixian was to the Canglan Sect, its importance beyond compare. Having searched the battlefield at the front mountain without finding it, they would naturally extend their search to the rear mountain. Never mind the rear mountain—to recover Shixian, the Canglan Sect's disciples and grand-disciples would likely have been willing to turn the whole of Canglan Mountain upside down.
The clamor in the distance gradually grew louder, ever clearer to the ear; plainly the crowd was searching its way toward this place. Ming Li's expression turned colder by degrees. Suddenly he gave a cold snort, and with a shift of his body he hurtled toward Lu Xueling and Lin Jinghong, reckless of all else.
Lu Xueling's face went bleak, but before she could move, Lin Jinghong had already sprung up. The Dragon Slaying Sword gave a whine and stabbed through the air like rending silk, its blade-light blazing as it lunged at Ming Li, rearing and clawing like a swimming dragon.
Ming Li's face was grim. His body moved like a ghost's; with a sweep of his left hand Shihun flew out anew, and utterly disregarding the might of the Dragon Slaying Sword, he struck straight at Lin Jinghong's head. Lin Jinghong was taken aback—this manner of fighting, fierce and brave, was more like his own way of old; he had not expected Ming Li to turn it back upon him. Yet faced with such a ferocious assault, the stubborn pride deep in Lin Jinghong's nature was stirred bit by bit. With a great shout, he too ignored Shihun entirely, and the Dragon Slaying Sword's momentum only increased, as though he meant to gamble with Ming Li outright—to see whose nerve was the greater!
The two had no sooner crossed hands than they were fighting for life and death. Watching from the side, Lu Xueling could not help shuddering, and as she fixed her eyes on them, a trace of worry crept unbidden into her gaze. But just as the two in the field seemed about to perish together, Ming Li's body suddenly swayed several times where he stood and scattered apart in all directions like black smoke—almost an illusion. Lin Jinghong could not check his momentum; his thrust met empty air and carried him flying forward. He knew at once that something was badly wrong, and in his alarm looked back—only to see a black figure, spectral as a phantom, appear behind him and fly toward Lu Xueling.
Such an uncanny art was certainly not among the Daoist methods of the Canglan Sect or the Brahma Sound Temple, nor had it ever been seen in the demonic sect. It was a bizarre sorcery Ming Li had slowly come to comprehend after reading the three volumes of the celestial tome, a thing never meant for the eyes of the world. He had tried it today, and it had succeeded beyond expectation—even a man like Lin Jinghong had been fooled. Even in Lu Xueling's eyes there was a flicker of astonishment and doubt.
Yet somehow, having used the celestial tome's strange art, Ming Li now seemed wholly different from moments before. It was not, as one might imagine, that he was wreathed in sinister demonic qi and ghostly black mist; rather, green, gold, red, and crimson qi rose on his face in turn, and a look of pain showed faintly there. Yet his body moved swift as wind, and his cultivation seemed somehow to have advanced a level beyond what it had been.
Lu Xueling was startled and doubtful, yet she dimly understood. Unlike Lin Jinghong, she had once, atop the divine tree in the great western marsh, within the "Heavenly Emperor's Treasure Vault," seen that mysterious third volume of the celestial tome at the same time as Ming Li. With her natural gifts—which surpassed Ming Li's, if anything—she had long since committed the celestial tome firmly to memory.