Chapter 174 — The Man in Black
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 1 of 6
The furious storm showed no sign of letting up.
In the darkness, scattered pinpricks of light swept to and fro—the enchanted artifacts in the hands of the Qingyun disciples, by whose faint glow they searched through the wind and rain. They had already drawn near the outer reaches of the Canglan Mountains' rear slopes, where the forest stood dense and deep, ancient trees clustered thick, and the vegetation grew wild beyond measure. Add to that the vicious weather—lightning splitting the sky, thunder rolling and rumbling, and every so often a bolt tearing down out of the heavens to strike the woods, often splitting a tree clean in two—and it was truly enough to make the heart quail.
Before such majesty of heaven and earth, the weaker Qingyun disciples could not help but tremble with dread. And amid the darkness, those little points of light looked like shivering fireflies, flitting and dancing without pause, illumining only the small patch of ground about each bearer.
"Boom…"
Another thunderclap burst upon the black clouds overhead, and the men on the ground felt their ears ring and buzz, their faces blanching with fright. Two hours had passed since the hunt for Ming Li began, and still no trace of him had been found. Many began to mutter inwardly—surely the fiend had not slipped away?
And in truth, it was not an unreasonable thought. As vice-sovereign of the Nether King Sect of the Demonic Cult, Ming Li's cultivation was surely transcendent, uncanny. He had seemed wounded by the Slaying Immortals ancient sword two hours ago, but who could say how grievously? So long as the wound was not mortal, Ming Li would surely have had the strength to steal away unnoticed.
Such thoughts echoed silently through many a Qingyun disciple's mind; yet with their elders pressing and berating them from behind, none dared give up, and they could only search on. Little did they know that in the darkness not far ahead, Ming Li lay gravely wounded, near to death, too weak to flee, clinging to the last shred of hope as he crawled prone through the muddy earth.
Amid the faint light in the darkness, someone suddenly shouted, "Halt! All of you, halt!"
The man's voice carried far through the darkness, and even the thunder in the heavens seemed unable to drown it out—clearly an elder of profound cultivation. Ming Li lay motionless on the ground, letting the rain beat upon his body; the voice sounded somehow familiar, yet for the moment he could not place it.
But plainly the surrounding Qingyun disciples held this man in deep trust and respect, for almost the instant his shout went out, the disciples who heard it stopped at once, stood where they were, and fell silent. Amid the wind and rain, the noisy, clamorous search suddenly stilled, until all that could be faintly heard was someone's ragged breathing among the trees.
The wind and rain grew fiercer!
Someone seemed to be listening intently.
Ming Li felt a chill abruptly soak into his heart and lungs, his whole body turning cold, with an eerie, hair-raising sensation. This strange silence, somehow, was more fearsome than the loud shouting of the search before.
After a moment, a voice asked softly, "Father, what is it? Did you hear something?"
Ming Li's heart jolted. That voice he knew well—it was Zeng Shuyan, once his friend. A moment later he understood who the elder commanding this section was: Zeng Shuchang, head of the Wind-Return Peak, and Zeng Shuyan's father. And the Qingyun disciples searching this area would, as a rule, be Wind-Return Peak's own.