Chapter 78 — Six

Tian Buhui caught sight of this in the thick of battle and was seized with anxiety. Casting a glance around, he drove back the Demonic Cult fighters before him with the Crimson Flame Immortal Sword, then slipped over to the side of Qi Hao and Lin Jinghong, who were fighting beside the elders though their faces were pale, and said urgently, "We have no need of you here—go at once and escort the sect master!"

Qi Hao and Lin Jinghong started. But Tian Buhui's face was stern, and they dared not disobey; and in truth, with the sudden treachery of Daoist Cangyan, elder of the Long Peak, it was to these disciples of the Long Peak as a thunderbolt from a clear sky, and their minds were already in disarray. They answered hastily and went after Daoist Daoyan.

Watching their departing figures, Su Wan, fighting nearby, knit her brows tightly. After a moment she found a chance to break away and slipped over to Song Dayi and Tian Lingsu, saying in a low voice, "Your uncle Cangsong has turned traitor, and there is no telling whether the disciples beneath him can be trusted. Go after them and keep watch over the sect master!"

Song Dayi and Tian Lingsu were startled, then understood at once and hurried after. Su Wan was about to turn back when from the corner of her eye she glimpsed, apart from this battle that had turned the world upside down, Zhang Qingyue—the young disciple who but a moment ago had been the focus of all eyes, and who now stood there as though no one minded him at all, his gaze fixed on some far-off point before the ranks of the Demonic Cult, motionless.

Her brows drew together. In truth she was of one mind with Tian Buhui, and did not believe for a moment that this young disciple could be a Demonic Cult spy. Remembering now how shallow Zhang Qingyue's cultivation was, she slipped at once to his side and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

Zhang Qingyue started and turned to look. Su Wan's heart suddenly leapt with alarm: Zhang Qingyue's eyes were shot through with blood, and though his senses seemed clear enough, there was about him an indefinable air of strange and baleful ferocity.

But matters were urgent now—how could Su Wan spare it further thought? She said hurriedly, "Xiaofan, it is far too dangerous here. Go with your senior brother and sister Ling'er."

Zhang Qingyue hesitated a moment, but beneath the gaze of this mistress who had cherished him since childhood, he nodded at last and ran toward the rear hall.

Su Wan was reassured, and threw herself back into the ever more savage fighting!

Amid the rumbling crashes and the violent clangor of colliding treasures, Zhang Qingyue ran into the rear hall and caught up with Song Dayi and Tian Lingsu, then with Qi Hao and Lin Jinghong; the group gathered around Daoist Daoyan. Daoist Daoyan glanced at them and nodded slightly, but when his gaze fell upon Zhang Qingyue it lingered there, as though against his will, before shifting away.

Zhang Qingyue could not tell what he felt. But the black iron staff in his hand now seemed faintly to ripple with green light, and waves of dizziness came over his mind again and again; he felt as though currents of baleful energy, like vengeful spirits, were charging straight into his head, and he could not keep himself from imagining the smell of blood.

Yet at this moment every heart was heavy, and no one marked anything amiss with Zhang Qingyue. And a moment later, Lu Xueqi of the Xiaozhu Peak and Wen Pei appeared before the group.

Lu Xueqi glanced at Zhang Qingyue, then said to Daoist Daoyan, "Master sent me and senior sister Wen Pei here!"

Daoist Daoyan sighed and shook his head slightly, but said nothing, and walked on.

They had not gone far when from behind them, in the Yuheng Hall, came thunderous crashes like rolling thunder, and several beams of light like pillars of a mountain shot up into the sky—bursting through the roof of the Yuheng Hall itself and soaring upward—mingled with several wretched screams, though none could tell whose lives were lost.

The faces of all changed. Needless to say, the fierce battle now raging in the Yuheng Hall was cruel beyond measure, and each of them could not but fear for their masters and fellows. Daoist Daoyan gazed deeply toward that place, his face drawn tight, then suddenly flung out his Daoist robe and strode away.

The young disciples followed behind him, and saw that this figure they had revered as a god all their lives still bore himself as straight and tall as ever; yet upon his dark green Daoist robe, the patch where blood had soaked through and dried to black was shocking to behold—and even the sword hole left by Daoist Cangyan's treacherous strike could be seen with perfect clarity.

How Daoist Daoyan could still hold himself upright after wounds of such severity, truly none could say.

The party passed through the rear hall. Among the young disciples none was of the senior lineage, so none had ever been here before; they simply followed Daoist Daoyan through halls and courtyards, and by degrees the clamor of the Yuheng Hall faded far behind them. They passed through the rear hall of the Yuheng Hall and headed toward the back mountain of the Jietian Peak.

Daoist Daoyan walked at the head, the others close behind, keeping wary watch on every side. Though most of the Demonic Cult host was even now assaulting the front mountain, there was no telling whether some among them might not have been led by Daoist Cangyan around to the rear.

Zhang Qingyue walked at the rear, his eyes faintly red, his face without expression—but deep within, it was as though monstrous waves were crashing. He was shaken by the great calamity that had befallen the Canglan Sect, and torn by the blood feud of years gone by. Though he had never seen with his own eyes who had slaughtered the villagers of the Liumiao Village, whenever he recalled that day's scene, he thought always of that fierce and mysterious man in black.

And now it seemed most likely that it was none other than Daoist Cangyan!

Two had survived the destruction of the Liumiao Village, but only Zhang Qingyue had seen that man in black do battle with Puzhao. Now that his suspicion had hardened into certainty, the hatred of many years surged up in his heart; and the black iron staff in his hand, forged from the world's two great murderous relics, Bloodeater and Soulthief, stirred by its master's hatred and murderous intent, at once let the long-buried baleful essence rise up within it—which in turn worked all the more upon Zhang Qingyue.

On any ordinary day, not to speak of one of Daoist Daoyan's attainment, even Tian Buhui would long since have seen that something was wrong with Zhang Qingyue. But who at such a moment could spare a thought for him? None knew that this humble disciple of the Canglan Sect stood at a critical juncture of the spirit, in an agonizing war between Heaven and man; a single misstep, and he would be tainted by the deep demonic malevolence of Bloodeater and Soulthief—lost beyond all redemption!

And so it proved: the fears of Tian Buhui, Shuiyue, and the others had not been groundless—though the back-mountain path of the Jietian Peak was secluded, they had gone no great distance when several Demonic Cult followers burst out from both sides, and Qi Hao and the others at once stepped forward to meet them.

Daoist Daoyan spared them only a few glances, paid them no further heed, and walked straight on. In this assault upon Qingyun the Demonic Cult had indeed sent forth its finest; even the followers prowling here were of no small cultivation, and Qi Hao, Lu Xueqi, and the rest could not make short work of them.

Song Dayi and the others kept escorting Daoist Daoyan forward, leaving Qi Hao and Lu Xueqi to hold off the enemy. In every heart there was in truth a question—why did Daoist Daoyan not simply fly through the air? Could his wounds truly be so grave as that?