Chapter 72 — Desperate Straits

The evening wind stirred his garments, setting them gently fluttering.

"That's right, it's the Blood-Devouring Orb, there's no mistaking it!"

Suddenly, as though the nightmare had not yet ended, another cry of astonishment rose once more. Qinglong stood to one side, his face covered in shock.

At these words, everyone present changed color, whether they were of the demon cult or the righteous path.

"The round bead at the tip of the magical treasure in his hand, wrapped about with threads of blood, and just now it had the power to devour the Kui Ox as well—it must be the Blood-Devouring Orb of the Black-Hearted Old Man from eight hundred years ago!"

The crowd erupted in an uproar, every face wearing an expression of horror—only Zhang Qingyue could hear nothing, nothing at all. In his senses, everyone around him was shouting so loudly, countless people were demanding answers of him, and yet he could hear none of it!

Slowly he turned his body. The Nether King had at some point vanished behind him; before him there was only the strange beast Kui Ox, trapped within the Dragon-Trapping Array, circling in frantic confusion, but in the end it seemed to accept its fate, standing motionless and letting out a despairing roar at the sky!

That sound echoed through the empty night sky, desolate beyond measure.

Zhang Qingyue slowly raised his head and looked up at the heavens.

That expanse of cold night—dark and boundless, as though it would suffocate a man.

Suddenly he laughed—a laugh of despair, a silent laugh—his body swayed, and he fell straight down, crashing heavily to the ground.

Before his eyes all was pitch-black, as though that endless dark night sky were pressing down upon him, boundless and without limit!

Then he lost consciousness.

!###!Chapter Ten — You Si

This dream seemed to pass another thousand years.

He walked alone through the darkness, until he saw that village—a place of bright sunshine and familiarity. He ran toward it, and those familiar faces smiled at him, teasing him.

The air was so fresh it seemed sweet to the heart, and on the grassy field beside the village where he played, he could not help but roll about freely, laughing with all his heart.

Around him, many more children suddenly appeared, rushing at him, and that ever-cheerful Jingyu laughed and said, "Do you yield? Do you yield?"

Do you yield

He murmured to himself alone, as though repeating the words of those years ago.

Of a sudden heaven and earth went dark, black clouds pressing down so low it seemed the sky had collapsed. Everyone around him vanished all at once, and the warm village in the distance disappeared as well. Darkness fell upon the land, and only a faint beam of light shone upon that terrified, helpless child

Suddenly he cried out in alarm: "I yield, I yield!"

He twisted upright, drenched in sweat, gasping for breath without cease.

"Xiaofan, what's wrong?" A familiar voice beside him, as though startled, seized Zhang Qingyue by the shoulder and asked anxiously.

Panting, Zhang Qingyue looked to the side. Lin Jinghong sat before the bed, his face tense and somewhat gaunt, staring at him. Zhang Qingyue froze for a moment, then looked around: this was a small guest room, plainly furnished, with only an ordinary table, a few chairs, and a wooden bed. He himself was lying on the bed now, a thin quilt covering him.

He lowered his head, steadied himself, and said, "It's nothing. I had a nightmare."

Lin Jinghong watched him, his lips moving slightly, and slowly let go of his hands.

Zhang Qingyue was silent for a moment, then said, "Where are we?"

Lin Jinghong hesitated, then said, "We've left Liubo Mountain. We're now in Changhe City by the Eastern Sea. This is a small inn in Changhe City."

Zhang Qingyue said nothing.

The room suddenly seemed very quiet. After a long while, Lin Jinghong said abruptly, "Xiaofan, is there anything you want to say to me?"

Zhang Qingyue's shoulders seemed to tremble. He raised his eyes to look at him—this childhood companion, now gazing at him so deeply, and yet that look was so unfamiliar.

He lowered his head again and said slowly, "No, Jingyu."

Lin Jinghong's brows knitted tightly. He wanted to say something, but in the end held himself back.

Another silence. Then Zhang Qingyue spoke: "How did we get back?"

Lin Jinghong sighed and said, "That day on Liubo Mountain, after you collapsed, everyone looked at one another, not knowing what to do. In the end my master and Uncle Tian and a few others discussed it and brought you back first. The demon cult seemed to be in some confusion too, and their attention seemed fixed on that monster, so they made no great effort to block us, and we made it back to Changhe City without trouble."

Zhang Qingyue was silent a moment, then said, "How long have I been like this?"

Lin Jinghong said, "Three days now."

Zhang Qingyue fell silent again. Watching him, Lin Jinghong felt a surge of irritation and could not help blurting out, "Xiaofan, what in the world is going on with you? How could you have—"

"Jingyu!" Zhang Qingyue suddenly called out loudly, cutting off Lin Jinghong's question.

Lin Jinghong started and stared at him.

Zhang Qingyue's voice was hoarse. He did not look at Lin Jinghong's expression or eyes, only lowered his head and said softly, "Don't ask. Please don't ask anymore, all right?"

Lin Jinghong gritted his teeth and stood up. He looked at Zhang Qingyue for a long time, then at last turned and walked toward the door; but just as he neared it, he suddenly turned back and said to Zhang Qingyue, "Xiaofan, rest assured—whatever the reason, I believe in you. I will certainly beg my master to speak for you!"

Zhang Qingyue sat on the bed without moving, as though he had not heard. Lin Jinghong glanced at him once more, then resolutely turned and went out. Outside the door there seemed to be people standing; Lin Jinghong exchanged a few words with them in low tones, and then his footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

In the room, all was very quiet.

Who knew how long passed. Zhang Qingyue slowly lifted his head and threw off the quilt. He saw that he was still wearing the clothes he had worn on Liubo Mountain—no one, it seemed, had changed them for him. Unconsciously he reached out toward the head of the bed, but suddenly his hand stopped in midair.

There was nothing there.

The black iron staff that had followed him all these years was nowhere to be seen.

He sat there blankly, his lips trembling slightly.

Suddenly he scrambled off the bed, ran straight to the door of the room, and flung it open.

The two people standing outside turned in astonishment. It was Song Dayi and Du Biyan.

Seeing Zhang Qingyue, their expressions seemed somewhat strange as well. After a moment, Du Biyan gave a dry laugh and said, "Lit—little junior brother, you're awake?"

A shaft of sunlight fell from the sky behind them and shone upon Zhang Qingyue's face. Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt dizzy, and his body swayed.

Song Dayi's expression changed; instinctively he stepped forward to support him, but his hand had no sooner reached out than it suddenly drew back.

Zhang Qingyue froze, staring at him—this eldest senior brother who had doted on him and loved him since childhood, his face as pale as paper.

Song Dayi's lips moved, and at last he said slowly, "Little junior brother, you're injured. You'd best rest well in your room for now, and not go wandering about."

Zhang Qingyue slowly drew himself back. Just as he was about to turn away, he seemed unable to restrain himself and suddenly said, "Eldest senior brother, where is my black iron staff?"

Song Dayi and Du Biyan both changed color. After quite a while, Song Dayi said flatly, "Little junior brother, that magical treasure of yours has been put away by our master for the time being. You—you needn't worry about it."

Zhang Qingyue said no more. He turned around and softly closed the door.