Chapter 58 — Heartbreak

He slapped himself across the face. Zhang Qingyue stood where he was, unable to keep from breathing a little hard, and only after a long while did his mood slowly settle. Then he shook his head with a bitter smile and said to himself, "Zhang Qingyue, oh Zhang Qingyue, who do you think you are? A nobody disciple of the Canglan Sect, not even worth ranking, and you dare stand here questioning the doctrine handed down by the founders—what a fool you are. The Canglan Sect has passed down its teachings for over two thousand years, revered by all under heaven; naturally, then, it must be right. How could the likes of you presume to doubt it?"

At that thought his mood at once eased. There was a certain self-comfort in it, perhaps, but it worked well enough. He stopped turning the question over and lay down at ease.

Yet he had barely settled when suddenly, above this island that had been so silent that only the sound of the tides and the sea wind remained, a shriek tore through the air—shrill to the extreme.

Zhang Qingyue sprang up at once and looked up. There in the night sky, a white beam of light streaked across like a summer meteor, dazzling beyond compare—and behind it, astonishingly, followed several more beams, their colors red, yellow, and white in turn.

A glance told him this was cultivators riding their swords in aerial combat—and plainly, the one in front was fleeing while those behind gave chase.

In this desolate place, where no soul had dwelt, someone was now fighting in the sky. It must surely be the righteous sects clashing with the demon cult. Zhang Qingyue had been searching these vast eastern seas for days, his heart already anxious; at the sight he was overjoyed. Either way, one side must be the righteous, so he hesitated no longer. He pointed a spell seal, and the black-iron staff rose into the air; he mounted it and soared skyward.

Bearing Zhang Qingyue aloft through the boundless night, the black-iron staff gave a drawn-out *wu...* as it rushed up. But none of those in the sky seemed to have imagined anyone could be on this desolate little island below. The fleeing man ahead took it for an ambush; the pursuers behind instinctively took it for a trap set by their foe. Both sides shouted at once—the white light ahead spun about, and the red, yellow, and white lights behind turned as well—and all of them came striking at Zhang Qingyue.

Zhang Qingyue was greatly alarmed, cursing inwardly, and found himself in the predicament of an enemy before and behind. But those magic treasures flew with such speed that there was no chance for him to explain. He brought himself up short in midair, then dropped headfirst like a stone.

Those four in the sky, of two factions, seemed all to be masters, reacting with great speed. In but a moment they saw the situation clearly; each halted their treasure an instant in the air, then unexpectedly all followed him down, clinging like thorns to the bone, giving chase without letup. Yet among the two factions, a few let out soft cries tinged with doubt—clearly they had realized their opponent also meant to strike down this intruder without mercy.

Only poor Zhang Qingyue was the innocent scapegoat, suddenly pursued by four magic treasures, and one slip would leave his body and head in different places. Hearing the wind grow tighter and tighter at his back, Zhang Qingyue gritted his teeth and knew there was no dodging it. Halfway down he twisted about, and saw those four beams shrieking toward him like lightning and thunder. With a great shout, the black-iron staff blazed with dark-blue radiance and he held it across his body, taking the blow head-on.

With a great *boom* that carried far across the calm sea, the four beams rebounded, and Zhang Qingyue, together with the black-iron staff, was smashed down from the sky, striking the water with a *splash* that sent spray leaping high.

Huge ripples spread outward in rings across the surface. The four in the sky—the fleeing no longer fleeing, the pursuing no longer pursuing—faced each other in midair for a moment, each vaguely sensing that the strike just now had something strange about it.

After a while, a figure slowly floated up on the water, spread-eagled on the surface; by the look of him, he had fainted. The four in the sky descended at once, wary of one another, approaching the water cautiously. By the starlight, they only just made out the face of the man in the water.

"Xiaofan!"

Two startled cries, ringing out from both sides at once.

Soaked in the ice-cold seawater, the sensation made Zhang Qingyue in his daze fancy himself still in the Merciless Sea beneath the Death Spirit Abyss of Kongsang Mountain, still there beneath the earth where no sun or sky could reach. Only—why were there such bright stars in the sky?

He shook his head and came to himself, looked around, and found himself half-lying on the shore, while on the sand some distance off stood four people: on one side a woman in green, on the other a woman and two men—and by their dress, they were of the Canglan Sect.

Zhang Qingyue steadied himself and looked at the woman and two men. The two men's features were familiar—they were, astonishingly, eldest senior brother Song Dayi and sixth senior brother Du Biyan. The woman's brows and eyes were like a painting, she wore red, and her face was so familiar.

In that instant he felt his blood boil through him, his mind buzzing, and not a single other thought remained. Staring fixedly at them, he cried out loud, "Sister!"

The woman in red turned at the sound and smiled sweetly, and in that moment this lonely isle in distant seas, this desolate night, seemed to brighten all at once: "You little wretch, I knew you wouldn't die so easily!"

What words could describe such fever? Zhang Qingyue felt a thousand phrases dammed up in his heart; endless longing, ten thousand miseries, all the yearning for life at the brink of death through these days past—all of it surged up at once. Gazing at that beautiful woman smiling so charmingly before him, he knew not why, but something in the depths of his heart suddenly ached, and he found himself staring blankly, tears running down.

Sister, sister, sister! He had said it in his heart countless times, countless turns, and now that she had suddenly appeared before him, he could see no one else at all.

Until a chiding cry rang out: "Zhang Qingyue, you dead wretch, you won't even spare me a glance?"

Zhang Qingyue started—and not only he; by the look of it, the three on Tian Lingsu's side had started too. Only then did Zhang Qingyue come back to himself and turn to look, and this shock was no small one.

Moonlight like water, the sky full of stars, shining cool and clear upon the sands of this lonely isle in distant seas—and there stood a young girl in water-green, a faint anger on her face, her skin whiter than snow, her bright eyes rippling like water, glaring hatefully at Zhang Qingyue. Who else could it be but Bili?

Facing her, Zhang Qingyue suddenly felt nervous, his tongue clumsy, and he stammered, "You—how do you come to be here?"

Bili glared at him hatefully and did not answer. Her gaze slid to Tian Lingsu's face on the other side, and seeing that Tian Lingsu was indeed lovely and striking, she felt a fire flare up in her heart from she knew not where.

That day at the Haiyun Tower in Changhe City, after Bili had left deep in the night with the woman in black, she had met her father outside the city and gone with him to Liubo Mountain in the eastern sea, to join the gathered host and prepare a great undertaking there. The righteous sects had come in pursuit, and the two sides had faced off on Liubo Mountain for several days already.