chsdbacks Chapter 30 A Surge of Killing Intent
Chapter 30 A Surge of Killing Intent
After Feng Baobao and Wang Ye's figures completely disappeared into the depths of the clouds and mist, the wind on Jingxin Cliff suddenly became fierce.
Zhang Yulei remained seated in the bamboo chair, the yellowed Taoist scripture clutched in his hand, but his fingertips no longer traced the ancient characters on the pages. His gaze was fixed on the churning sea of clouds below the cliff, his calm demeanor masking a raging torrent of killing intent. The relaxed smile that had been aroused by Feng Baobao and Wang Ye was completely gone, replaced by a chilling ferocity that even decades of quiet cultivation could not eradicate.
He silently calculated the time, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.
The drumbeats of the Luo Tian Grand Ceremony still drifted faintly on the mountain breeze, but to him, the clamor and excitement carried a sense of impending doom. He knew all too well what was to come—this seemingly grand event, meant to select talents and intimidate extraordinary individuals, would ultimately become a springboard for the Quanxing sect's rebellion. When the final drumbeat of the Luo Tian Grand Ceremony fell, the gates of Longhu Mountain would be breached by that horde of unbridled madmen.
The goal of Quanxing has never been the outcome of the Luotian Grand Ceremony, the secret manuals and treasures of Longhu Mountain, or that kid Zhang Chulan, but rather their second senior brother, Tian Jinzhong, who is paralyzed in a wheelchair and has lived half his life in pain and secrets.
Zhang Yulei's fingers slowly tightened, his knuckles turning white from the force. The pages of the Taoist scripture were crumpled under his grip, but he was completely unaware of it.
Tian Jinzhong... that gentle and cheerful second senior brother.
In his memory, Tian Jinzhong always had a warm look in his eyes. He would quietly cover for him and Zhang Zhiwei after they got into trouble; he would stuff a heater into his bed during the coldest winter months; and he would stay by his side for three days and three nights without leaving him when Tian Jinzhong went astray while practicing thunder magic. But later, in order to investigate the truth behind Zhang Huaiyi's betrayal of Longhu Mountain, Tian Jinzhong had his hands and feet crippled, and from then on, he could only be accompanied by a wheelchair, confined to that small space for half his life, unable even to lift a cup of water.
He's already suffered enough.
Those scoundrels of the Quanxing sect wouldn't even give him this last bit of peace.
Gong Qing…the acting leader of Quanxing. That seemingly gentle and even somewhat timid young man was actually incredibly wicked. He had long ago hidden himself in Longhu Mountain as a minor Taoist priest, plotting the chaos caused by the famous Quanxing sect members causing havoc on Longhu Mountain. He infiltrated the back mountain, found Tian Jinzhong, and used the most cruel methods to interrogate him about the secrets of that year.
If Zhang Yulei hadn't been unable to recall the name of the young Taoist priest Gong Qing was impersonating, he would have already left the mountain.
And that young man from the Lü family.
Zhang Yulei searched his mind for that vague name, but couldn't recall it. Yet he clearly remembered that the boy knew the Lü family's Soul-Clearing Technique—one of the eight extraordinary skills feared by the world, the Dual-Handed Technique. That so-called Soul-Clearing Technique was simply an evil art used to extract memories. Gong Qing had used that boy's ability to forcibly extract the secrets from Tian Jinzhong's mind, and also to take his last breath.
Tian Jinzhong never found peace until his death.
Thinking of this, a surge of burning anger exploded in Zhang Yulei's chest. Thirty years of dedicated cultivation had smoothed the fierceness between his brows, but it couldn't erase the protectiveness in his bones. He could disregard the honor and disgrace of Longhu Mountain, he could disregard the conflicts in the world of supernatural beings, but he couldn't disregard his senior brother.
That's his second senior brother!
They are the family members who grew up with him and protected and doted on him!
"Buzz—"
A clear, melodious sword cry suddenly echoed throughout Tranquil Cliff.
The black sword hanging on the wall of the bamboo house had begun to tremble slightly. Dust fell from the scabbard, and the frequency of the sword's tremors increased, the buzzing sound growing louder, as if echoing the surging killing intent in its master's heart.
Zhang Yulei slowly raised his head, his gaze falling on the sword.
decades.
This sword accompanied him through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood in Blood Moon Valley, helped him slay the head of Ghost Face, and accompanied him through decades of hardship on Tranquil Cliff. The patterns on the scabbard have long been blurred by the passage of time, but the sharpness of the blade has never been obscured.
He slowly stood up and walked steadily toward the bamboo house.
With each step he took, his inner energy surged. The thunderous power he had suppressed for thirty years was slowly awakening like a sleeping dragon. On the bluestone slab in front of the bamboo house, the grass bowed slightly under the pressure of his energy. The clouds and mist at the edge of the cliff, as if drawn by an invisible force, began to churn wildly.
He reached out and gently grasped the sword hilt.
A chilling sensation traveled from his fingertips throughout his entire body. A familiar power, like a long-lost friend, merged with his Qi. He could feel the thunderous power contained within the sword, eager to drink blood.
Zhang Yulei's eyes suddenly sharpened.
Those eyes, dormant for thirty years, now resembled icy blades, carrying a chilling killing intent. His once peaceful face now faintly revealed a resemblance to the madman from Blood Moon Valley years ago.
"Quanxing..." he murmured softly, his voice hoarse but filled with unwavering resolve, "Gong Qing... the brat from the Lü family..."
Not a single one can be spared.
He could continue guarding the Tranquil Cliff, continuing to be that reclusive mountain hermit. But he couldn't stand by and watch Tian Jinzhong be tortured to death by those scoundrels. He couldn't let his second senior brother suffer such a tragic end.
Decades of guilt and forbearance transformed into overwhelming killing intent at this moment.
He slowly drew his sword.
"Clang!"
A sword cry, like the roar of a dragon, shattered the tranquility of Tranquil Cliff.
The moment the sword was drawn, a dazzling golden arc of lightning shot up three feet high along the blade. The lightning crackled, illuminating his crimson eyes. The sword, unsheathed for thirty years, remained as sharp as ever, its blade gleaming with a cold light that reflected the churning clouds at the cliff's edge.
Zhang Yulei stood silently in front of the bamboo house, sword in hand.
He did not go down the mountain immediately.
He knew it wasn't the right time. The Quanxing sect hadn't started their rebellion yet, and Gong Qing hadn't infiltrated the back mountain. If he went down the mountain now, it would definitely attract Zhang Zhiwei's attention. Zhang Zhiwei would definitely stop him and try to persuade him to calm down. But right now, he simply couldn't calm down.
He has to wait.
The moment when Quanxing wreaked havoc on Longhu Mountain, the moment when the back mountain fell into chaos, the moment when Gong Qing and that Lu family brat approached Tian Jinzhong's wheelchair.
At that time, he will take this sword and go down the mountain.
He wanted to make those scum of the Quanxing Sect taste the agony of being burned alive. He wanted Gong Qing to pay the price for his actions. He wanted that brat from the Lü family to know what it meant to wish for death.
He will not lose control again.
Decades of seclusion had honed his mastery of lightning to perfection. He would no longer indiscriminately slaughter friend and foe as he had done in Blood Moon Valley. This time, his sword would only strike those who deserved to die.
Zhang Yulei slowly raised his hand and gently wiped the blade with his sleeve.
His face was reflected on the blade. On that wrinkled face, there was no hesitation, only a chilling killing intent.
He thought of Zhang Zhiwei.
If my senior brother knew he had gone down the mountain, he would definitely be angry, wouldn't he? He would definitely blame him for ruining his plans, wouldn't he?
A faint smile appeared on Zhang Yulei's lips.
Well, let it be strange.
He doesn't care.
All he knew was that Tian Jinzhong was his second senior brother, his family. Protecting family is never wrong.
"Senior brother," he said softly, as if speaking to Zhang Zhiwei, but also as if speaking to himself, "Don't blame me. There are some things I have to do."
He gripped his sword tightly, turned around, and walked to the edge of the cliff.
The drums below the mountain still resounded. The final battles of the Luo Tian Grand Ceremony must have already begun. The duel between Zhang Chulan and Zhang Lingyu should be starting soon, right? That rascal, that stubborn junior disciple—their victory or defeat was no longer his primary concern.
His gaze fell on the direction of the back mountain.
That's where Tian Jinzhong lives. That's where the people he wants to protect are.
Zhang Yulei took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes.
He began to circulate the Dragon Tiger Mountain cultivation technique, gradually suppressing his surging killing intent. The lightning arcs on the sword also gradually dimmed, leaving only a faint golden light on the blade. His face returned to its usual calm, as if the man who had been so murderous had never existed.
He is waiting.
Waiting for the right opportunity.
Waiting for the right time to descend the mountain.
The wind at Tranquil Cliff grew stronger. The clouds and mist churned more violently, as if foreshadowing an impending storm.
On the bamboo house wall, the previously empty sword sheath swayed gently in the mountain breeze, making a creaking sound.
Zhang Yulei, standing on the edge of the cliff, remained there, sword in hand, eyes closed, like an unchanging stone statue.
However, the fingers gripping the sword hilt never loosened their grip.
He knew that before long, the commotion down the mountain would turn into chaos.
And at that moment, he would draw his sword and descend the mountain.
Blood debts must eventually be repaid in blood.