Chapter 174 — The Man in Black
The Sword Questions the Heavens · Page 2 of 6
Zeng Shuchang had long been renowned, and indeed he was no ordinary man. Amid the clamor of wind and rain, he had still caught the faint, unnatural sound Ming Li made. Yet the gloomy forest before him was pitch-black, not a finger's length visible, and beyond the wind and rain there was not a trace of anything more. Even he could not help doubting whether that tiny sound he had heard had been real, or whether the great crowd of searchers had startled some animal into flight.
After a moment's pondering, Zeng Shuchang frowned in the darkness, waved his hand, and said, "Spread out, all of you, form a single line, no more than three feet apart, and search slowly forward. Leave no gap uncovered."
Ming Li's heart lurched. With a search this fine and dense, he would have almost no chance of escape. As his heart quailed, he heard Zeng Shuyan's voice, faintly anxious: "Father, the forest is so vast—if you deploy so many disciples here in such a tight search, won't the other areas go unsearched?"
Zeng Shuchang said flatly, "I have my reasons. Say no more. Go."
Zeng Shuyan faltered a moment in the darkness, dared not speak further, and could only turn and move forward. For a time no one spoke at all; one saw only the dots of light creeping slowly through the wind and rain, gradually stretching into a long serpent that pressed slowly onward.
Somehow the atmosphere in the forest had turned strange. During the clamor before, everyone had been stirred up, and so no one had been afraid; now, in this silence, an inexplicable creepiness began to prickle at their hearts.
Because of their cultivation and the nature of their artifacts, the faint glow of the Qingyun disciples' treasures could not reach far, and its brightness was quite limited; but linked together as they were, pressing slowly forward, they soon came within two zhang of where Ming Li lay hidden.
"Wait!"
Suddenly Zeng Shuchang cried out aloud. Several dozen Wind-Return Peak disciples of the Canglan Mountains, scattered nearby, halted at once. Zeng Shuyan started, went to his father's side, and by the glow of the artifacts saw that Zeng Shuchang's face was stark with gravity.
"What is it, Father?"
Zeng Shuchang's gaze was deep, fixed straight ahead into the darkness—but not, as it happened, toward where Ming Li lay hidden. Rather, he was looking past him, toward the distant, deep, secluded heart of the forest ahead.
In that deepest darkness there seemed to be nothing at all—and yet it seemed filled with countless demon shapes and ghostly specters, howling and dancing wildly through the wind and rain.
"Something is amiss…" In the faint light, the wrinkles on Zeng Shuchang's face seemed suddenly to deepen, and a flicker of doubt and fear showed in his eyes. But he was no ordinary man; after long years of cultivation his will was firm, and with a cold snort he had already made his decision.
*Zheng*—a light ringing cry, and everyone started. Zeng Shuchang had actually summoned his personal immortal sword. Its blade-glow was silver-white, pulsing and flickering through the dark storm, bright and dazzling, utterly unlike those of the Qingyun disciples around him.
He was silent a moment, then said loudly, "I will take the lead. The rest of you keep to the plan—search in a single line as before—but stay one zhang behind me, and do not come closer."
By now everyone had some sense that something was strange and wrong; but with Zeng Shuchang present, they felt they had a backbone. So they watched as Zeng Shuchang, his face grave, took his sword and walked at the head of the column, while the others kept to their formation behind him, holding the one-zhang distance, not daring to approach.
And so this strange procession crept slowly onward.
A peculiar breath seemed to be softly panting in the dense forest on this stormy night…
"Woo… woo…"