281 Join the Devil Part X (2/2)

This cruel and yet beautiful scene was heart wrenching and touching.

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Beautiful emotions could not make the world beautiful. It might look as warm as spring, but in actuality, the room became dimmer and the temperature dropped as night embraced the mountain peak outside the Devil's Doctrine. Mo Shanshan laid in Ning Que's embrace, unconscious. Ning Que who was heavily injured could feel the energy in his body slowly slipping away.

He could vaguely remember the warmth he felt earlier. He raised his head subconsciously and looked at the bluestone ceiling once more. He suddenly discovered that the sword marks on the stone did not disappear together with the night, but had started to glow with flames.

Youngest Uncle had killed many powerhouses of the Devil's Doctrine then. Had the blood on the sword meet the stone walls and become the ghost fire that it was today? But Ning Que clearly remembered that ghost fire was something that only stayed on rotting corpses. It wouldn't last for so long.

He squinted and found that the sword marks on the roof were getting clearer. He was entranced by it and attempted to decode it using the Eight Strokes Calligraphy of Yong. He forgot about the injuries he had sustained and forgot to cough.

The flaming sword marks began to turn into numerous shards of light, and then, they started to spin in his vision. It felt as if he was lying on the grassland and they were the numerous stars in the skies above his head. It was beautiful and calming.

Suddenly, Ning Que experienced another feeling of warmth in his body. This time, he did not allow this feeling to slip, but he did not pay too much attention to it either. He just savored it.

The stone ceiling with the sword marks on them remained in his field of vision as they spun in a certain order. The warmth seemed to correspond to that and began to spread in his body. It spread from his wrists to his neck and left behind a comfortable warmth where it passed.

Ning Que mind had wandered by then. He chased the warmth subconsciously, wanting to dissipate the coldness in his body. His gaze moved together with sword marks and they gradually imprinted on his sense of perception.

Those sword marks entered his pupils and his body, turning into a warm flow of air. It passed through his wrists and several joints. It entered his organs and turned into a presence that seemed almost tangible, hurrying him to stand up coldly. The sword style hidden in the sword marks was proud, how would it allow hopelessness and surrender before death?

And so, Ning Que stood up.

He raised his head and looked at the sword marks on the ceiling quietly. He did not seem to know when he had stood up.

Mo Shanshan was shocked from her slumber. She looked at Ning Que who stood before her in stunned silence. She did not know what had happened.

Ning Que looked at the sword marks above his head silently. He did not know how much time had passed, but his pupils grew darker but were shiny. It looked as if he was looking through an abyss.

There was a clink as he slowly drew the podao behind his back.

He looked at a perpendicular sword mark on the ceiling and stepped forward with his right foot.

He looked at the clumsy, short and straight sword mark at a corner and his left knee landed heavily on the ground.

He looked at the gentle circle of a sword mark on the wall across him. He turned suddenly and struck out with his blade.

The blade hummed, and the air between it split. There was a sudden gust of wind in the quiet room.

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The old monk had awakened. He looked to the side. He had used the Practice of Taotie and taken two continuous bites of the Tao Addict's pure flesh. His cheeks had filled out slightly and the life in his dried body became vigorous.

Ning Que was waving his blade around in the corner of the room. He stared at the sword marks littering the walls and ceiling of the room. He could not stop waving around the podao in his hand. He did not sense anything else around him and have seemed to enter a deep meditation state.

The old monk could feel the aura of the sword marks around him slipping away and entering the body of the young man. His eyes filled with anger suddenly as he yelled shrilly, ”You are already dead. Do you still want the broken sword you left to come back to life?”

The old monk's cheeks that had just filled out slightly earlier began to sink. He pointed at the dried fingers of his right hand at Ning Que who was in a trance. He looked as if he wanted to kill him even if it took the last ounce of blood in him.

Mo Shanshan was the first to react. She supported her body weakly and reached out behind her to hold on to a few hard objects tightly.

Ye Hongyu who was so silent felt as if she was long dead, remaining beneath the palms of the old monk. She raised her head suddenly and her hands which were buried in the pile of bone shards began to tremble slightly. Stubbornness and a will to live glowed in her cold eyes.