Chapter 62 — The Demonic Cult

"Ah!"

With a soft cry, Zhang Qingyue started awake from his dream, gasping quietly in the darkness, and felt that his whole body was soaked through with cold sweat.

These past few days, it seemed, ever since that day he had heard Facheng speak of Puzhao, Zhang Qingyue had begun to dream again of that nightmare from his childhood—that scene of the slaughtered village, engraved so deeply in his heart, surging toward him from every direction, as though it meant to swallow him whole.

The black iron staff still lay beside him, and from its shaft came the familiar faint coolness, as though everything were just as it had always been.

Only, after this, Zhang Qingyue also felt that the strange magic treasure bound to his right arm seemed to give off a warmth, the very opposite of the black iron staff, a thread of warmth that seeped into his body.

Suddenly he felt he could not breathe, and there in the darkness, where no one could see, he quietly curled himself up.

Who knew that a man with too many secrets was weary in just this way?

In the darkness the others all slept peacefully. Outside the stone cave there were always disciples keeping watch through the night, so everyone was at ease. Listening to their calm, familiar breathing, Zhang Qingyue sat staring blankly into space.

From afar came faintly that soft, delicate voice which, even in his dreams, seemed to carry her own particular gentleness. The darkness cut off his sight, and yet Zhang Qingyue felt as though he could see her clearly—that beautiful woman smiling, sleeping sweetly in the quiet depths of the night.

Only, he did not know who it was that dwelled in her dreams.

He reached out and gently took up the black iron staff, drawing it to his chest and holding it close, as though it alone could keep him company and never forsake him.

In his daze, he suddenly thought of that pair of demon foxes who had gone to their deaths so calmly.

If it were me—would I have the courage to die together with the one I love?

In the night, he thought quietly.

The sun rose in the east, and the sea wind blew in gusts. This day the sky was high and the clouds were pale—a fine, clear day.

Several disciples of the Dazhu Peak sect left the stone cave where they lodged and, riding their magic treasures, flew deep into the Liubo Mountains, searching carefully all the way, hoping to find the followers of the Demonic Cult.

Tian Lingsu led the way, her "Amber Red Silk" gleaming with red light as she flew at the forefront; Song Dayi and He Dachuan followed close behind her, while Du Biyan and Zhang Qingyue flew at the rear.

Among the disciples of their lineage, apart from Song Dayi, who wielded the immortal sword "Ten Tigers," the others used red silk, or a treasure brush, or—stranger and more comical still—dice, or a black iron staff, and the like. When nearly every disciple of the Canglan Sect used immortal swords, they stood out most conspicuously.

But this place, after all, was not Canglan Mountain. On the Liubo Mountains, to say nothing of the Demonic Cult, there were more than a dozen other Orthodox sects alone, and magic treasures of every kind were to be seen everywhere, so they were not so conspicuous after all.

Still, when the disciples of the various Orthodox brethren had nothing to do, they would gossip among themselves, and those with a taste for such sport would appraise one another's magic treasures. And so certain "authorities" declared that on the Liubo Mountains this time, of all the treasures in everyone's hands, the strangest was none other than the dice treasure of a certain disciple of Dazhu Peak of the Canglan Sect, while the crudest was, unexpectedly, also the black iron staff of a certain disciple of Dazhu Peak of the Canglan Sect. Clearly the Canglan Sect, leader of the world, truly harbored dragons and crouching tigers, and was not to be underestimated!

One wondered what Tian Buhui would think if he heard such an appraisal.

At this moment the disciples of the various Orthodox sects had scattered in groups of three or five, darting to and fro. The wind whistled over the Liubo Mountains, and lights of every hue flashed past, some swift and some slow, a most pleasing sight.

Zhang Qingyue looked out from atop his treasure to either side, and saw the Orthodox host spreading out in a fan. Close by his own group, some dozens of yards away, on his right hand was a company all of women—naturally the disciples of Xiaozhu Peak—and Xue Qi flew among them, her garments drifting, her fine hair brushing her shoulders; together with her cool, beautiful features, she seemed almost to have an otherworldly grace.

Zhang Qingyue's heart stirred; not daring to look long, he turned back and looked to the other side, where another few dozen yards away were the disciples of the Long Peak lineage, some six or seven of them, among whom were Qi Hao and Lin Jinghong. Just then Lin Jinghong, too, looked over from afar, smiled, and waved.

Zhang Qingyue answered with a smile.

Behind the Long Peak disciples followed another group, which appeared to be the remaining disciples of the Zhaoyang Peak lineage.

Just then, from ahead came a clear whistle from Tian Lingsu. Zhang Qingyue looked forward and saw Tian Lingsu form a hand seal; the Amber Red Silk flashed with red light, gave a "whoosh," and bore her pretty figure straight up into the sky, more than several times faster than before.

Song Dayi was startled. He knew this young junior sister of his was of a lively temperament, and that this outing was a rare chance—unlike on Canglan Mountain, where there were so many restraints. These past days, whenever they came out, she would often fly to her heart's content, which had worried Su Wan a good deal; she had scolded her daughter several times, and this very morning, as they set out, she had again urged Song Dayi to keep an eye on her.

But Tian Lingsu had grown up since childhood amidst everyone's doting, and Song Dayi could not bring himself to speak a single harsh word to her—how then could he keep her in check? With no other choice, he could only speed up himself and chase after her.

Zhang Qingyue, He Dachuan, and the others naturally drove their treasures too, following close behind, and in the blink of an eye they had opened a gap between themselves and the disciples of Long Peak and Xiaozhu Peak.

Zhang Qingyue quickened his pace, caught up to Tian Lingsu, and flew some ten feet off to her side, stealing a glance at her. He saw that Tian Lingsu wore a smile, her expression excited; today she was dressed all in red, and together with that Amber Red Silk, she looked all the more lovely.

The wind was sharp in midair, but through it came Tian Lingsu's joyful laughter, and hearing it, Zhang Qingyue felt a warmth in his heart.

"Little junior brother!" Song Dayi's voice suddenly came from beside him.

Zhang Qingyue hurriedly turned his head. "What is it, eldest senior brother?"

Song Dayi, riding his giant sword, smiled and said: "Little junior brother, I never thought you would advance so swiftly in the Daoist arts—in such a short time, you have actually reached this level."

Zhang Qingyue was grateful at heart. "Eldest senior brother, it is all thanks to your good teaching."

Song Dayi shook his head and laughed. "I would not dare claim the credit. Look just now—you were actually flying much faster than me, and third and sixth senior brothers too."

Only then did Zhang Qingyue realize that, seeing Tian Lingsu fly so fast a moment ago, he had grown anxious and put on more speed to catch up, without noticing those beside him—and so he had flown out ahead of his three senior brothers. But now, seeing Song Dayi and He Dachuan flying behind him so calm and composed, he suspected that if they truly exerted themselves, they might not be any slower than he.

Zhang Qingyue's face reddened at once. "Eldest senior brother, I..."