Chapter 59 — Malice

Terrified, Wild Dog clutched his head and ran. When the demon cultists saw him fleeing back, a chorus of jeers went up—and then, no one knew who started it, but with a series of whooshes they rose on cloud and mist and flew away one after another, not a single one staying to help.

In the blink of an eye, only the Blood Refining Hall crowd remained on the field. Elder Nian watched, his face grim, his heart bitter, but in the end he knew this was no place to linger. His Crimson Demon Eye flared red again and again, forcing Fazhong back several yards; then he sprang free, beckoned to his people, and fled as well.

Tian Lingsu would have given chase, but her father's clear voice came from behind: "Ling'er, let them go."

Tian Lingsu stopped dead in her tracks, her face still flushed, and turned to Tian Buhui. "Father, you heard what that demon said—"

Tian Buhui only smiled. Su Wan stepped forward and drew her aside, saying gently, "Those demon cultists will stoop to any wickedness—what is a little coarse talk? We need only pretend we did not hear it."

At this, most of the righteous cultivators chimed in. "Just so, just so," they said.

"Miss Tian need not take it to heart."

Only then did Tian Lingsu subside, still sulking. Seeing the demon cultists scattered, most of the righteous cultivators dispersed as well. These days they fought the demon cultists like this constantly—fought, scattered, scattered, and fought again.

Zhang Qingyue was just about to go speak with Senior Sister Ling'er when someone clapped him on the shoulder. He turned, and for an instant he was stunned—then his face lit with joy. There stood Lin Jinghong behind him, beaming. It had been so long since they had met. In his white robes, with the Slaying Dragon Sword slung across his back, with his sword-shaped brows and star-bright eyes, handsome and elegant, he truly stood out from the crowd.

This, in fact, was the first time Zhang Qingyue had seen his childhood playmate since the great Seven Peaks Tournament. In these days of wandering the jianghu, at every moment of life and death, Lin Jinghong's figure had not failed to flit through his mind.

Lin Jinghong looked at him for a long while, his face first joyful, then overcome. Suddenly he rushed forward and seized Zhang Qingyue in an embrace, holding him tight and refusing to let go, and only after a long time did he release him. Zhang Qingyue was just as moved, and he saw that there seemed to be tears glinting in Lin Jinghong's eyes.

"Xiaofan!" Lin Jinghong's voice caught as he spoke, and the hand gripping Zhang Qingyue's shoulder tightened until it almost hurt.

But Zhang Qingyue paid it no mind. Seeing Lin Jinghong, it was as though all the fear and despair he had known on the edge of death these past days could be understood by this brother alone. Only before this brother could he truly relax.

Lin Jinghong held him tightly and said in a low voice, "Xiaofan, I—I—I thought I'd never see you again..." Here his emotions overcame him, his lips trembling slightly, and he could not go on.

"I—me too," Zhang Qingyue said, gazing back at him. A moment later the two suddenly smiled at each other and let out a long breath.

"It's good to have you back. We'll sweep away the demon cult together yet, and take our revenge together!" Lin Jinghong said, gripping Zhang Qingyue's shoulder and smiling.

"Right," Zhang Qingyue said with a solemn nod.

Lin Jinghong's feelings slowly steadied, and his expression calmed. Looking at Zhang Qingyue's face, now a little weathered by travel, a shadow of gloom suddenly crossed his brow. "When I heard you'd gone down the mountain, I was happy for you and hated myself at the same time. To think that after all these years, all the master's high hopes for me were wasted, and my achievements fall short of yours."

Zhang Qingyue was startled and shook his head. "Jingyu, you mustn't say that. Everyone knows your aptitude is ten times mine. If I'd met you in the last tournament, I'd certainly have lost. I've only been a little luckier, that's all."

Lin Jinghong let out a breath and laughed heartily. "You're right, I suppose. I'll train harder in the days to come—I refuse to believe I can't surpass you. But you mustn't slack off either."

Zhang Qingyue laughed aloud and nodded vigorously.

As the two of them caught up here, Tian Lingsu was still pouting and wheedling her mother, while Su Wan smiled and soothed her.

After talking with Lin Jinghong a while, Zhang Qingyue glanced toward his sect and seized Lin Jinghong's hand. "Come, let me introduce you to my master and senior brothers."

To his surprise, Lin Jinghong gave a sniff and said in a low voice, "That short, squat master of yours? Forget it!"

Zhang Qingyue glared at him. "Don't talk nonsense." And he dragged him over by force.

Lin Jinghong looked helpless and had no choice but to follow. As they drew near, Zhang Qingyue was about to speak when he suddenly noticed that beside the place where Tian Lingsu was talking with his mistress Su Wan, a man had appeared from somewhere—elegant as a jade tree in the wind, handsome and dashing. It was Qi Hao.

Qi Hao said a few words to Tian Lingsu in a gentle voice, and she broke into a smile at once, not a trace of anger left in her. Her smile was like a flower, and there before everyone she actually took Qi Hao's hand and walked with him toward Tian Buhui.

Zhang Qingyue felt a buzz in his head, a blank whiteness, and in an instant there was no other sight left in the world—only his senior sister leading Qi Hao by the hand, walking toward them. Dimly he heard Lin Jinghong beside him, a note of amusement in his low voice: "Your short, squat master was dead set against Senior Brother Qi and Senior Sister Tian being together, but Senior Brother Qi went and begged the master. The master has always thought highly of him, and then he asked the sect leader to put in a word, so your master had to agree. Heh, look at them now, out in the open..."

Lin Jinghong broke off abruptly, his mouth slightly open, staring at Zhang Qingyue beside him.

At this moment Zhang Qingyue seemed to have become another person entirely. Deep in his heart a frenzied fire of rage had suddenly flared up, hot enough to burn his own body to ashes.

He felt as though he were being roasted alive in the evil fires of the nine underworlds, while ahead of him that man and the beautiful woman he loved most in the world were walking toward him, their hands clasped together.

The Dark Iron Staff that always hung at his waist now rose with a familiar chill, coursing through his whole body—yet far from cooling that blazing fire, it was like oil poured on flames. A murderous malice, a bloodthirsty fervor—and so it was that Zhang Qingyue's face was twisted.

In that instant everyone on the field was suddenly struck dumb, and the harmony of the moment froze solid. Then they saw the little junior brother who had always been so mild and courteous suddenly give off a killing aura and baleful air such as even the demon cultists had not shown before. Those around him could not help but step back, watching this man who had turned in an instant into a fiend, and as he glared murderously at Qi Hao—and at Tian Lingsu too—he took a step forward.

The blue sky over Liubo Mountain seemed to darken.

Song Dayi was the first to step forward, blocking Zhang Qingyue's path, and at once he felt that there was not a single familiar trace left in this little junior brother he had watched grow up.

Sensing someone in his way, Zhang Qingyue slowly raised his head and glared at Song Dayi. Song Dayi saw those eyes, suddenly shot through with blood, and felt a chill at heart. He forced a smile. "Xiaofan, what's the matter with you?"

Zhang Qingyue did not answer, only said in a low, husky voice, "Get out of the way."

His tone was drawn out, low and long, as if he had spent great effort to speak at all, yet to everyone who heard it, it carried a sense of dread.