Chapter 139 Xiaoyues True Purpose (1/2)
The company emerged from the tunnel to find themselves surrounded by a mob of armed men with jet-black garbs that indicated that they were the sentinels of the Wuwang Wind Cloud City. Xu Gu muttered an ”Amitabha” and was about to greet the guards politely, when Ye Wuhen rushed forward, swinging his sword and immediately drew first blood by killing the first two guards before him.
The rest of the company, equally incensed by their tormenting ordeal in the Cold-billow Labyrinth, too brandished their weapons, charging towards the black guards of the Wuwang City. Despite their greater number, the guards merely possessed strengths of the Foundation Building Realm. Before long, the company made short work of them, with most of the guards either dead or badly injured.
Qin Xinyan pulled one of the guards by the cuffs of his robes, snarling to him, ”Where is the master of the city!” A glint of malice flashed in the guard's angry eyes; he produced a dagger hidden in his robes. But Qin Xinyan had anticipated a hidden attack. As a reprisal to the guard's suicidal retaliation, Qin Xinyan smote at the guard with a fiery stroke from his palm, engulfing the man in flames that swiftly burned him to death and reduced him to ashes and soot.
Only after their brief clash, the company realized that they were standing in a large patio filled with beautiful flowers and plants. The scenery and atmosphere would have been tranquil and refreshing if not for the blood-spattered cobblestones due to the fight. But the garden and the guards would mean that the company must have reached into the confines of the fortress.
Xu Gu beheld the aftermath of the fight, the bodies of the dead that laid strewn on the ground. ”Amitabha...” He sighed, his palms coming together reverently before his chest. ”What have we wrought...”
He had barely finished lamenting the carnage when a cheerful giggle rang from overhead. A figure, fully clad in green, floated down from the sky and landed gently on the ground. Yu Yifeng was the first to recognize the newcomer; his expression the first to change from being surprised to morosed. It was Leng Ningfeng, once known as Wu Nian, Yu Yifeng's formerly junior.
”Yu Yifeng the Eleventh,” Leng Ningfeng's frosty gaze first fell on Yu Yifeng and said, ”It has been too long.”
”Wu Nian...” That was all that Yu Yifeng could manage to say; he was filled with pain and anguish at the sight of his former friend, the one who was once as close as a brother to him. The sudden reunion conjured up myriads of memories, most prominently the day when he ultimately decided to defect to the Devil's Practice.
”Hahaha!” Leng Ningfeng guffawed in response, throwing his head back. But as quick as he was to laugh, he instantly retorted with a chilly glare at his former best friend and sai, ”That is a name I am no longer called by.” He turned to address Xiaoyu. ”And this saintly lady, surely you are Xiaoyue of the Thousand Feathers Sect?”
”So I am,” Xiaoyue replied silkily, ”Will the City Master meet us now?”
”Come with me then, since you wish so badly to meet him!” Leng Ningfeng boomed with a sarcastic chuckle. He threw the sleeve of his emerald-green robes imperiously and turned on his heels before proceeded to move towards the outer cloisters of the patio.
But a good many of the company were hesitant to follow him. The trials of the Cold-billow Labyrinth and the agonizing night they had suffered made them extremely distrustful and wary if this was another ruse by the City Master.
”Fret not. We'll go together,” Xiaoyue said, instilling confidence to the rest.
They filed out of the patio. As they strode on, the company found that the innards of the fortress were a stark contrast to the view of the grim and dystopian monolith from outside.
The company encountered a picturesque scene as they walked: meticulously constructed pavilions and gazebos, bridges that arched over a slow, gurgling stream of crystal-clear water, topped with a gentle breeze that refreshed anyone whose face the wind caressed as it passed, painted the tranquil scene of a lost paradise upon a canvas of lush greeneries and proudly-blossoming flowers.
The company would have wanted to stop and rest while they enjoyed the view and revitalizing atmosphere if not for the uneasy tenseness in their hearts. They followed Leng Ningfeng until they reached an antechamber. Intricately-carven pieces of furniture adorned the little hall with a table encircled by neatly-arranged chairs. Desserts and refreshments were waiting on the table, as if their arrival had been announced. Standing dutifully at the side, were four female stewards, servants of the fortress's staff.
Leng Ningfeng did not stop; instead, he led the company into the main hall, where a partition screen, embellished with a painting of birds paying homage to a phoenix, sat the end of the hall. The phoenix was finely depicted in the painting, its likeness immensely realistic that one could almost feel its grandeur and majesty permeating just by looking at it.
But there was no one else in the hall, aside from the four servant-girls. ”Where is the City Master?” Ye Wuhen asked them. But before they could answer, the hollow voice of a man resounded from the other side of the partition screen, saying, ”Still, you've come.”
”Enough with the theatrics! Show yourself!” Ye Wuhen barked angrily.