allonlinenovel Chapter 513 New Flowers, Old Friends
Chapter 513 New Flowers, Old Friends
Jiang Liqian's fingertips trembled violently. She ignored Jiang Yueming's words and stubbornly kowtowed to the ground.
"Please, Sect Leader, tell me where my master is. I am willing to give my life for it."
Only the person who uttered the sound knew how much resentment, hope, and escapism were contained in that resounding thud; others simply avoided the scene before them.
Jiang Yueming's eyes welled up with tears, and she turned her face away sadly. Zhong Nanchu couldn't bear it and lowered her head deeply. Qingzhi, seated high above, looked down at the trembling girl kneeling on the ground, his fingers slowly clenching his sleeves before finally closing his eyes.
"Get out."
Three words: cold as ice.
The three people in the hall looked up at the same time, and the first thing that came to their minds was a speechless shock.
When would a celestial being, whose purity is as clear as jade, utter such words!
It's like a piece of crystal-clear jade being maliciously smeared with a trace of filth and malevolence in a babbling brook. Although it's very little, it's still shocking to see.
At this moment, he didn't seem like an immortal, but rather like a real person.
However, after the initial shock, Jiang Yueming was the first to speak out in anger. He roared in anguish, "Qingzhi, you're the heartless one! You're the heartless one! How much more do you want me to beg you? Are you trying to drive me mad? Five hundred years! How many more five hundred years do I have to wait?! Tell me the entrance! Tell me the entrance! I need to find her! Otherwise, I'm capable of anything!"
Qingzhi strode forward, instantly appearing before him. His five fingers grasped at the air, and a thin, white whip, radiating a chilling aura, froze in the cold, silent air. The next instant, a whistling sound rang out, accompanied by a hoarse, painful groan.
Zhong Nanchu opened his eyes wide and saw a deep, bone-revealing bloodstain on Jiang Zhailao's back, the spotless brocade robe instantly revealing the bright red bloodstain.
Elder Jiang's cultivation level was unfathomable throughout the entire Tianqian Sect. Some disciples even believed that Elder Jiang's strength could rank second on the Tianqian Sect's cultivation ranking. Although he was certainly no match for the sect leader, the two were roughly equal in strength.
But now, the ice whip that had been conjured out of thin air had lashed Jiang Zhai Lao's back so hard that it was covered in blood. His protective spiritual energy and body tempering were just decorations, completely ineffective. He simply couldn't imagine how strong the sect leader really was.
He dared not even imagine what would have happened to him if the sect leader had been truly angered by his previous rash and ignorant questioning.
It was the facade of a prestigious sect that made him forget the true majesty of the Tianqian Sect, the number one immortal in the cultivation world, and why people dared not look him in the eye.
"Are you awake?" A cold, icy voice rang out in the otherwise silent hall.
As that sound faded, without giving anyone a chance to respond, the second and third lashes lashed down...
"Are you awake now?"
"Senior brother."
The weak groans of pain were almost drowned out by the howling wind outside the hall.
In just three breaths, ten lashes fell, and Jiang Yueming was forced to the ground, his back a bloody mess. His handsome and unruly face still bore the ferocity of anger, but his eyes were too weak to open, and even his breathing was barely perceptible.
Qingzhi stood indifferently before him, a drop of blood from the icy whip stained the hem of her flowing robe. She looked bewitching and eerie. Under the shimmering light of the white jade, there was an indescribable, breathtakingly beautiful sense of rupture, intertwined with bloodshed and depravity.
It's like a holy fairy peeling away half of her skin to reveal a bloodthirsty and dangerous face.
“Senior Brother,” Qingzhi lowered his eyes slightly, bent down, his long robe suddenly trailing on the ground, and a fleeting cold killing intent flashed across Qingchen’s peerless face. He gently lifted Qingchen’s chin with his whip, and the words he spoke were more and more ruthless than the last, “You know whose lives Tianqian Sect has taken today. If you really have a death wish, I don’t mind cleaning up the sect myself!”
“Now,” he suddenly raised his eyes, coldly sweeping over Jiang Liqian and Zhong Nanchu’s faces, “get out of here!”
With a sudden wave of her long sleeves, Jiang Liqian and Zhong Nanchu were caught off guard when they felt themselves being swept away by a sudden blizzard. When they spun around and crashed to the ground, rolling several times before slamming into the stone wall, they belatedly realized that they had been imprisoned at Sanyan Cliff.
"The sect leader has decreed that Elder Zhai Jiang Yueming has left the forbidden area without permission and trespassed into Linglong Pavilion. He is hereby confined to Sanyan Cliff and shall never be allowed to leave without further orders. Disciple Zhong Nanchu has committed insubordination and stolen treasures. He is hereby confined to Sanyan Cliff for ten years. Disciple Jiang Liqian has committed insubordination and disrespect for elders. She is hereby confined to Sanyan Cliff for one month."
-
The empty hall was now empty except for one person.
Qingzhi turned around, dragging his feet as he walked back to his high position on the cold jade bricks.
He caressed the broken longsword in the jade box, and as if torturing himself, pressed his fingertips heavily onto the dense cracks. The sharp pain mingled with drops of blood as it spread along the cracks, weaving into an impenetrable net that dragged him back to that day, his most painful and desperate day.
Crimson clouds, the shattered light of the array, clusters of sword light flashing...
He remembered.
Lost fragments of memory, lost people.
And his heart-wrenching, almost shattered soul.
The sword hummed, and warm sword energy coiled around his bloodied fingertips, as if it were comforting the wounds inflicted by the blade. Qingzhi snapped back to reality, staring at the blood-stained broken sword. His mind went blank for a moment, and he was completely at a loss. He hurriedly reached for his sleeve to wipe it, bit by bit, strand by strand, each wipe extremely careful. His pristine white sleeve was quickly smeared with crimson blood, but he didn't care at all.
But as he wiped, he stopped, his hand limply covering his eyes, looking as exhausted as if he might collapse at any moment.
He raised his head.
Before long, tears silently streamed down her face, settling into her dark temples.
He was the only one in Linglong Pavilion.
Only his sadness.
He didn't even dare to choke up.
Frost and snow turn into a mournful song, not speaking of parting and sorrow.
He stumbled toward the painting hanging on the east wall, counting his steps.
One step, two steps, three steps...
One year, two years, three years...
The woman in the painting is lost in the swaying peach blossoms, her bright red skirt fluttering, hooking onto the boy beneath the peach tree, who is gazing up at her with a dreamy look.
The fragrance of peach blossom wine wafts through the air as petals slowly fall, landing on sheets of Xuan paper covered with strict rules and regulations written in black ink.
The memory is hazy and distant.
So far away that they are separated by life and death, by the divide between the living and the dead.
From far away to near at hand, new flowers and old friends.
"puff!"
The white, covered in dust, was eventually stained with specks of mottled crimson blood.