Chapter 91 — The Oriole Behind

But just then Xiao Yichen and the others on the Orthodox side had caught up, now joined by Song Dayi, Zeng Shuyan, and Wen Pei of the Canglan Sect, Fa Jing of the Brahma Sound Temple, Yan Fei of the Burning Cloud Valley, and others—eight in all. Their magic treasures came out together, and they surrounded Yuyang Zi and attacked from every side.

Yuyang Zi gave a shrill cry and, with the thrill of the kill upon him, every savage trait in his nature came surging forth, and not a trace of fear showed on him. The Yin-Yang Mirror turned and danced, warding left and right, drawing and counterattacking, as he fought those eight—from the ground up into the air, and from the air back down to the ground.

But the Orthodox side had numbers and strength, and none among them of low cultivation. However great Yuyang Zi's divine powers, in the end the few could not withstand the many, and the momentum of the Yin-Yang Mirror was slowly pressed down.

The eight on the Orthodox side leapt and flew, their coordination growing ever more practiced. True, eight against one was not a pretty sight—but one need only add in one's heart, "This is the Demonic Sect's great malefactor, evil beyond all evil," and the conscience was at ease. Every move was meant to kill, aimed at the vital points.

Yet Yuyang Zi had centuries of bitter cultivation behind him—no common thing. Beneath that forest of blades and glint of sword-light, though he slowly lost the power to strike back and the pressure around him mounted ever higher, do what they might with their frenzied assault, Xiao Yichen and the others could not break into the black and white mysterious glow of his Yin-Yang Mirror.

Moreover, as he moved, he faintly drew the whole knot of battle along with him, edging it sideways. Had Xiao Yichen not been so quick-witted—suddenly recalling that fellow disciples had perished here a moment ago—and cried out loud, "Careful, do not sink into the marsh!"

—then no one would have been warned. Moments later they realized that, all unawares, Yuyang Zi had drawn them to the edge of the bottomless pits, where a single misstep would swallow a man whole. It was perilous beyond peril.

That amid such chaotic fighting Yuyang Zi should keep such composure and such a discerning eye—such experience and judgment were naturally beyond these juniors' reach.

Yet now, for all his experience and supreme cultivation, facing this band of young masters—high in cultivation, fine in gifts, exceptional in magic treasures, and among them some with such steady judgment—he was helpless.

The eight led by Xiao Yichen struck as one, and in an instant countless strange lights and rays came raining at the Yin-Yang Mirror in Yuyang Zi's hand. Yuyang Zi shook from head to foot, feeling layer upon layer of pressure crash upon him like mountains toppling and seas overturning, wave after wave. Once his opponents had struck they could rest a little; he could only block without cease, with no chance to recover his strength. After a dozen-odd parries he could hold out no longer, and was forced to fall back, drawing gradually away from the bottomless pits.

Once clear of the pits, the Orthodox cultivators set their hearts at ease and pressed the attack on Yuyang Zi all the more freely.

Yuyang Zi began to struggle. From the corner of his eye he swept the field and saw that in this short while most of the Longevity Hall disciples had already withdrawn, and Meng Ji and a few others were hurrying toward him to cover his retreat—but more and more Orthodox disciples were closing in around him.

Cold fear gripped Yuyang Zi's heart. He knew that if these twenty or thirty men closed the ring about him, however high his cultivation, he would die here. He knocked aside the Xuanyuan Sword that Zeng Shuyan drove straight at his front and shouted, "Go, all of you, quickly!"

Meng Ji and the others froze for a moment, then turned and fled. Yuyang Zi had no wish to linger in battle; the Yin-Yang Mirror in his hand flashed once, twice, and suddenly white light blazed dazzling bright. In an instant the five magic treasures closing on him were all shocked back at once, turning upon their masters.

The Orthodox side had not expected such skill from him still, and fell at once into confusion; a small gap opened in their formation.

Yuyang Zi, a man of such experience, instantly became a shaft of strange light and hurtled toward it like lightning.

He had barely moved when he was already beside the gap, on the verge of breaking through. Xiao Yichen and the others were far behind him and could not catch up.

But at that very moment emerald light blazed up, dazzling bright, and the Dragon-Slaying Sword came howling in, cleaving down at his face—by the look of that stroke, it meant to split Yuyang Zi clean in two.

Yuyang Zi was caught unprepared, but at this pass between life and death he still wrenched his body three parts to the right. The emerald light came cleaving straight down and thundered past his flank, his sleeve fluttering, shredded to powder by that emerald blaze.

His left arm had long since been lost, and now that loss served him well; otherwise, under such agony, whether he could have kept his composure was doubtful. Still, his left side burned with searing pain—likely he had been cut by the Dragon-Slaying Sword's emerald edge. He did not halt; his right hand already turned, and the Yin-Yang Mirror flashed black and swept out sideways. A muffled grunt answered, and Lin Jinghong staggered back, every wound so lately bound bursting open afresh, blood spraying out once more!

Now no Orthodox disciple stood in his path. Joy rose in Yuyang Zi's heart; he gathered himself to break free, cursing inwardly that he had suffered such humiliation today at the hands of these Orthodox juniors, and vowing a hundredfold vengeance in days to come.

Above the Dead Marsh, of a sudden a thunderclap burst forth!

Every head turned!

A brilliant blue light spanned the heavens. The dark clouds above churned violently like ink, a hideous vortex, and Lu Xueling stood upright in midair, the wind howling bleak about her, her peerless face cold as ice, cold as frost!

Far off in the darkness, it seemed someone's body gave a slight shudder.

That beautiful woman stood poised in the void, and walked seven steps upon empty air, chanting an incantation. In an instant lightning flared wild across the heavens, like enormous serpents of light threading through the clouds.

Yuyang Zi's expression changed drastically, but before he could react, Lu Xueling's "Divine Sword, Thunder-Commanding True Art" was already unleashed. A vast bolt of lightning came thundering down from the sky and struck the tip of the Tianya Sword; blue light blazed forth and in a moment lit half the cloud-heavy sky.

In this moment Lu Xueling no longer bore the strain she had shown years ago when she dueled Zhang Qingyue. The lightning that filled the heavens was mirrored in the depths of her pupils, as though she had returned to the years gone by!

A colossal pillar of light refracted downward; before it reached the ground, the Orthodox disciples nearby were already scattering. Within several zhang of Yuyang Zi the gale shrieked, trees and water-weeds torn up by the roots—a terrifying sight!

Yuyang Zi gave a long, shrill cry, his robes billowing out all around him. The Yin-Yang Mirror rose and hovered, radiating the strange black and white light, and in an instant the two merged into one. Plainly, after this fierce battle, Yuyang Zi too had spent every last reserve, staking all on a desperate defense!

"Boom..."

The vast pillar of light crashed down upon Yuyang Zi's Yin-Yang Mirror, and in that instant drove his body a fraction into the earth. A look of agony flashed across Yuyang Zi's face—but in the sky above, Lu Xueling's body too gave a great shudder, and her face paled.