劍問蒼天 - 第213章 心魔 - 清風書屋

Little Gray flew clear and unharmed, escaped from death; but Hades, hidden deep in the red glow, seemed to utter a roar of fury, his murderous aura swelling higher. The surrounding black qi and red glow congealed in an instant into form, and a huge red palm print smote down at that sudden arm; and behind the red glow the Fuxing Tripod slowly began to turn, strange lights flowing within its body, the eerie incantation faintly visible and hidden, the whole chamber steeped in the intent of slaughter.

The bloody glow dazzled the eye; in a flicker, the figure of Ming Li appeared, his face dark as deep water — it was he who had saved Little Gray's life at the last instant. At the same time, he now found himself facing the eerie demonic power of the Fuxing Tripod, which Hades, for reasons unknown, had begun to rouse and would not let rest.

The whistling sound grew ever more shrill and bitter; within the blood-red palm print there suddenly flickered, faint and hidden, strange runes in the shape of the ancient tripod, and it came straight at him. Ming Li's brows knit tight, yet facing this peerless demonic art he showed no thought of retreat; he raised both arms and, before the blood-red palm print that flew swift as lightning could arrive, traced in the empty air before him the pattern of a Taiji.

A blue light sprang up, like a clear spring pouring into long-parched earth; the whole room's aura of blood and slaughter was shaken. The Taiji diagram shimmered with pure qi — it was the orthodox and unalloyed wondrous art of the Canglan Sect, the "Taiji Xuanqing Dao."

The blood-red print came thundering down the next instant and struck the Taiji diagram.

Beyond all expectation, there was no earth-shaking crash, no mighty shock; on the contrary, it was like a mud ox sinking into a muddy pool, without the slightest sound. Only that red blood print was held fast in midair, unable to advance a step further; and Ming Li's face flushed instantly crimson, as though blood would drip from it.

A sharp gleam flashed in Ming Li's eyes; he cast one deep look into the depths of the red glow, gave a cold snort, and shifted his feet to retreat. With every step he fell back, the red print pressed forward a fraction; and at the same time, with every step he fell back, his hands never paused an instant — fingers bent and rose, mudras shifting, and between his palms the Taiji pattern shone with clear light and did not weaken in the least.

At the third step back, his hands formed the treasure vase mudra, and the strange crimson on his face had eased; the edge of the Taiji diagram had begun to radiate a faint golden sheen. At the fifth step back, his hands shifted to the flower-plucking mudra, and gold and blue light shone upon each other in the Taiji diagram. And when he had retreated seven steps, Ming Li's back was to the stone wall, no road left to retreat; yet at this moment his face had returned to its normal hue, with no trace of the strange crimson.

With a shake of both hands, Ming Li had formed the Buddhist vajra mudra.

In an instant the golden light blazed forth, and the radiance of solemn dharma streamed out on every side, as though Buddhas and gods were softly chanting sutras all around, deep and melodious; the Taiji Diagram whirled madly, its golden brilliance dazzling, and the red blood-seal was gradually swallowed up by that Taiji Diagram and vanished without a trace.

The sky was filled with a dazzling light of gold and azure that shot straight upward, and it actually pressed the Nether King's blood-red radiance back. And deep within that red glow came a furious roar — clearly the man was in a towering rage; the red light flickered, there were a few mournful cries, and the Taotie on the ground was drawn in by the red light, its enormous body sucked into the Coiled Dragon Cauldron in the blink of an eye and gone.