Chapter 422 — A Pack of Old Coots
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 3 of 4
Below it, the three Lords wore grave expressions and said nothing. After a moment, Star Lord Yan could not help himself: "Must we truly do this? If we do, I fear few in the whole Jingping Kingdom will survive. .
.
" "We have no choice. " Star Lord Qiao said in a heavy voice, "The Jingping Kingdom has grown too powerful. Emperor Yanfeng forged a divine weapon and blasted Lord Yu to death. The Human Sovereign has been replaced. The laws are changing, the Way is being altered—it has enraged those above.
If we do not do this, we cannot save ourselves.
Compared with those lowly breeds of the lower realm, our own lives matter most!
" Lord Hua said, "But those are countless lives. . .
" "Say no more. " Star Lord Qiao's face was expressionless. He raised his hand.
"We need only fulfill our own duty.
Right and wrong, cause and effect—we ask after none of it. Awaken the gods of the High Heavens. There will surely be a battle in the lower realm.
" Star Lord Yan and Lord Hua looked grave. Star Lord Yan went to the horn beside the altar and blew it, and at once a deep, long note spread through the whole of the High Heavens. Doo, doo— In the High Heavens, the mountains stood majestic, and rare and wondrous beasts roamed freely among the peaks, but what drew the eye most were the great, towering statues. They were the divine images of gods, each stranger than the last.
As the horn's call carried through, cracks suddenly spread across their surfaces; the stone receded at astonishing speed, some of it peeling away like dead skin, some turning into the grain of flesh and blood and skin. Suddenly, one stone statue, half-kneeling and half-crouched, smashed its enormous fist down upon the ground and slowly rose to its feet.
Then, among the towering mountains, the statues woke one after another, each opening its eyes, the divine light in them shooting straight to the heavens. Star Lord Qiao's gaze was like lightning.
He swept it around once, then cried in a heavy voice: "Guide, lay the bridge—" In the sky of the High Heavens, upon a long, gleaming golden bridge, the Divine Guide stood and turned the golden compass before him. The compass grew brighter and brighter, and suddenly a beam of golden light shot from its center, becoming a golden rainbow bridge that pierced the barrier between the High Heavens and the lower realm.
Star Lord Qiao's eye twitched. He gritted his teeth and said, "All gods, hear the command—descend to the lower realm! " One after another, the gods rose into the air, becoming streaks of light that flew out of the High Heavens along the bridge of light. At once, in the sky over the Western Lands, brilliant stars streaked across the heavens. That night, eighteen flying stars, trailing long tails of light, tore through the sky toward the east.
That night in the Wilderness Ruins, heavy snow fell. The Young Patriarch and Elder Dianxing sat among a stretch of ruins, a campfire burning, its light illuminating the night around them.
"It's snowing. " Elder Dianxing looked up and saw snowflakes drifting in from the darkness, falling past them. "This year's winter seems especially long.
" The Young Patriarch poked at the firewood with a burning stick, coaxing the flames higher.
The campfire crackled and popped, and sparks drifted upward with the smoke. "It's not so bad.
The New Year has passed now, hasn't it?
" The Young Patriarch smiled. "Once the New Year is past, it will gradually grow warmer.
" Just then a voice suddenly came, laughing: "Make the fire burn brighter—I'll come warm myself too. " The two turned to look, and saw a figure in a bamboo hat walk out of the darkness into the ruins.
The man had only nine fingers, and puffs of mist breathed out from beneath his hat.
"Daoist Lingjing.
" The Young Patriarch rose hastily and saluted. Daoist Lingjing returned the salute, took off his hat, and held his hands out to the fire, his eyes flickering.