Chapter 66 — The Vampire Fiend

Zhang Qingyue's face went pale, his features seeming to twist. Enduring the pain, he formed a seal with his right hand and slashed swiftly before him. The dark iron staff leaped into the air with a "wu," flashing a wall of light, and the faint blue-green radiance flickered again and again.

The foremost few yin spirits could not check their rush and crashed straight into the dark shaft. Without even a shriek, they dissolved into wisps of smoke.

At the same moment Zhang Qingyue's body shook again. He glanced down and saw that the ghost claws, like blades, had already cut through his skin; bright red blood flowed out and dripped onto the black claws.

That fresh, sweet scent of blood! It spread through the air at once.

Zhang Qingyue froze for a moment.

The countless yin spirits shrieking and wheeling through the sky froze for a moment as well.

The light on the dark iron staff seemed, too, to tremble faintly—as if the breath that shared his very bloodline had been stirred.

A moment later the countless yin spirits clamored and swooped down upon that sweet body of flesh and blood. But there, where the wind blew bitter, someone raised his head and cried out. The dark iron staff came down; Zhang Qingyue caught it in one hand. Heeding the yin spirits above no more, he glared wide-eyed, and in those eyes a faint red light seemed to waver.

He drove it in!

Downward he drove it!

Through that ghost claw—and through his own blood!

The red blood clung to the dark shaft and seeped quietly in. Suddenly the red veins upon the dark iron staff all blazed alight together.

"Pu!" Deep in the earth there came a muffled sound. All the yin spirits above suddenly halted, their faces showing dread, as though before them stood the demon of legend that burns and refines yin souls.

In the darkness, it seemed only the light of the dark iron staff flickered.

In the distance, the red skull in the Vampire Fiend's hand suddenly gave a low, crisp crack, and a piece broke away from its right side.

The Vampire Fiend's face changed drastically. He jerked his head up—this youth had actually destroyed one of the life ghosts in his Five Ghosts Commanding Spirits formation. And there on the field, the four life ghosts, now missing a corner, clearly could no longer hold so many yin spirits; little by little some of the spirits were slipping free and fleeing.

The ground around Zhang Qingyue suddenly sank, fully half a foot deep, and the ghost claws gripping his feet slowly loosened and turned to foul blood that seeped into the earth.

But before he could draw breath, he heard the whole sky of yin spirits shriek in unison. He started in dread and was about to resist, when he saw that the countless yin spirits were in fact scattering and fleeing in all directions—white light flashing everywhere, ghost shrieks unending, yin spirits wheeling, red light streaking past...

Red light?

That red light, speeding through the countless white yin spirits, came like lightning, like flame, the skull flashing as it came—and in an instant it was before him. Zhang Qingyue was about to leap up, but a pain shot through his foot, pulling at the wound he had taken, and he lost his footing and could not dodge.

The red skull gaped wide, biting down like a ravening ghost. In his alarm Zhang Qingyue raised the dark iron staff to block it—but in that flash between lightning and flint, a withered hand thrust out from the skull's mouth, suddenly lengthened by three feet, five fingers hooked into a claw, and seized him hard upon the chest.

Zhang Qingyue's body convulsed. In that instant he saw the withered skin of the ghost hand suddenly fill out, as if blood were pouring into it, growing plump. In a moment his head swam, and he felt all the blood in his veins surge at once, flowing backward toward the wound on his chest.

This was of course the Vampire Fiend's prized skill, the Vampire **. Seeing Zhang Qingyue held within his grasp, he could not help laughing aloud. With a great shout he raised his arm and hoisted the youth's body straight up into midair, crying, "Little wretch, give me back my disciple's life!"

Held in his grip, Zhang Qingyue's blood ran backward through his body, and the pain was unbearable. His senses grew dim; with the last of his strength he struggled in his death throes, thrusting the dark iron staff at the ghoul, but there was no force in it at all—it drifted like a falling feather.

The Vampire Fiend paid it no mind in the least. He gave a humph, thinking to himself: this youth has nothing else about him, his arts are only ordinary, but this magic treasure in his hand is most peculiar. In a while, once I have drained his blood, I shall take this dark-iron-staff thing back and study it well.

Just then, the dark iron staff came down upon the hand that gripped Zhang Qingyue's chest.

The dark blue-green bead grazed the skin that was in that moment so wildly drinking blood.

The blood beneath that skin seemed to be summoning something.

The Vampire Fiend suddenly gave a shrill cry, released Zhang Qingyue, and leaped back, staring at his hand. The skin that had grown plump from drinking blood had, almost in an instant, shriveled away—worse than it had been before.

And before him, Zhang Qingyue swayed on the verge of falling, yet the dark iron staff in his hand—above all the bead at its tip—had come eerily alight, making the threads of blood around it gleam red.

The Vampire Fiend suddenly laughed coldly: "So that is how Jiang Laosan came to die—the strangeness was in you. Heh heh, that such a rare treasure exists in this world! Little wretch, give me your life along with it!"

With that his form flew up, his ghost hand like a claw, and this time he drove it straight down at the crown of Zhang Qingyue's head. Poor Zhang Qingyue had no strength left in his whole body and could resist no more; in another moment he would die beneath the claws of the Vampire Fiend.

"Fiend!"

A furious roar, thick with rage, and a blast of scorching heat tore through the air in an instant, crashing down like a towering wave and sweeping across the whole forest. Within thirty feet of them, every tree withered in the blink of an eye. A single brilliant streak of fire fell from the horizon, ripping the blanket of dark clouds to shreds.

The Old Bloodsucker was aghast. The newcomer's cultivation was far beyond the ordinary, and he had no time left to trouble himself over wounding Zhang Qingyue. His hands flew back, and with a shrill shriek the crimson skull blazed with blood-light, raising before him a wall of radiance red as fresh gore.

"Boom..."

Like thunder crashing to earth, the firelight smashed into the blood wall, and a hissing torrent of heat roared up, in an instant becoming a scarlet immortal sword that shuddered without cease. The tremendous force drove the Old Bloodsucker straight backwards, fully dozens of feet, and still it did not slacken in the least, bearing down on him like mountains calling and seas howling.

The Old Bloodsucker's face went white. He let out a great cry, shifted his hand seals, his ten fingers moving in unbroken succession, and in a flash two beams of blood-light shot from the crimson skull's eyes, piercing the blood wall and striking the scarlet sword.

Amid a thunderous report, the scarlet immortal sword flew back, and the Old Bloodsucker's whole body was shaken violently; he staggered back several steps before he could steady himself.

"Red Flame!" A chill, sinister intent suddenly rose in the Old Bloodsucker's eyes, and his face turned frost-cold.

The blazing heat flared and was gone. Where the firelight had flashed, Tian Buhui slowly appeared. Behind him another figure flickered past—it was Su Wan, who had caught the swaying, about-to-fall Zhang Qingyue. Seeing that his master and mistress had come, Zhang Qingyue felt a warmth in his heart.

Su Wan wore an anxious look; watching him, she said in a low voice: "Xiaofan, are you all right?"