The Tianshu Mirror Revealed (3)
The demon was spouting random provocations, yet still acted the outsider when she brought up Lin Qianshuang, as if Xiao Lanle were ignorant of the old affair between the Lord of the Demon Realm and her senior sister. Besides, she had seen it with her own eyes.
Xiao Lanle brushed the sword edge with her index finger; her bright, sharp gaze flicked to Su Qing and actually made him flinch. He had not expected so much force from a cultivator so young.
In that instant of hesitation Lanle had already raised her blade. She stared at Han Shengyao’s dazzling, mature beauty, a face that left her no room for comparison, and jealousy coiled like a poisonous vine around her heart. Viewed like this, she truly fell short of the Demon Lord in every way. No wonder Senior Lin would rather follow the City Lord than stay with her in the Penglai Immortal Sect.
“That’s right,” she said. “The demonic nature of the Glazed Temple Gem was indeed suppressed by her.”
Xiao Lanle’s always gentle and dignified face twisted ever so slightly; the smile stayed polite, yet every syllable that left her mouth formed the first vulgarities she had ever uttered. “But it’s none of your damn business. Even if Senior Lin and I have scores to settle, who asked you to butt in with your crap? Lord of the Demon Realm, consider yourself warned: in less than half a cup of tea the righteous disciples of every major sect will be here. Take your rag-tag horde and get out.”
Han Shengyao did not dare underestimate her. A woman who could win the Penglai Sect leadership on her own and be named future head of the Immortal Alliance plainly had methods to spare, but such naked hostility left her puzzled. The righteous and demonic paths had always been at odds, yet as Demon Lord she had never wreaked havoc in the human realm; Xiao Lanle’s hatred felt far too personal for ordinary enmity.
She lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Do we have some quarrel, Sect Leader Xiao? Could the Senior Lin you speak of be someone I once knew?”
Xiao Lanle blinked, looked her up and down, and gave a light laugh, suddenly relieved. “The great ones forget so easily. So the venerable you has no memory of it, how foolish of me to assume you would.”
The brat was mocking her for being ancient. Once a cultivator formed a golden core, appearance stopped changing; among immortals, age was a meaningless word.
The sudden mockery from the other side made no sense, leaving her unable to fathom what this young human sect-leader was thinking.
Had her seclusion lasted so long that the world’s ways had passed her by?
Han Shengyao kept feeling that the girl opposite knew something about her, perhaps through the little envoy. The Celestial Myriad Phenomena Instrument had already returned to its ordained orbit, the Spirit Array inside the Beast-Subduing Tower was active; her mission was finished, and there was no need to tangle with this brash new sect-leader over trifles.
A dark gleam flickered across her violet eyes. She, Han Shengyao, had saved the lives of several thousand rogue cultivators in Tianshu City; Mu Weiyin owed her a colossal debt. The more Mu Weiyin let her guard down, the easier it would be to remove this inconvenient ruler of the rogue-cultivator world. Once the city fell, every demon cultivator trapped underground in the Demon Realm would have a refuge, and the Demon Realm would gain a rogue-cultivator city.
A face flashed through her mind.
The little envoy had formed a life-death bond with the Tianshu City Lord. Perfect. One arrow, two hawks; it would also silence the restless throb in her heart that had begun to irritate her.
The moment the word “silence” rose in her heart, the restless palpitations surged up again.
Han Shengyao narrowed her eyes and pressed a hand to her erratically pounding heart. Su Qing was right; the identity of the woman in the portrait no longer mattered. If that figure became a weakness others could exploit, it would bring only harm. She had let this little demonic cultivator cloud her judgment too many times; this time she would show no mercy.
“Sect Leader, urgent report. Taotie is closing in on Tianshu City!”
Inside Tianshu Hall a terrified cultivator stumbled across the threshold, white with fear.
Xiao Lanle’s body tensed. Gripping the Plain Inquiry Sword, she stepped forward. “What of the two outside the city gate?”
The cultivator dropped to his knees. “The gate stands open, but every sect head is reinforcing the barrier beyond it. The four allied leaders have gone out in person to subdue Taotie, and the City Lord of Tianshu rides with them.”
Xiao Lanle wondered why the newcomer showed no alarm at the demonic cultivators inside the hall. She glanced around: the Lord of the Demon Realm and her retinue had vanished, presumably spirited away by some artifact.
She spat at the empty air. “Lord of the Demon Realm, indeed. One whiff of a righteous cultivator and these ‘terrifying’ demons scatter faster than hillside pheasants.”
A massive dragon claw slammed down, jolting the ground and webbing it with hair-thin cracks.
Taotie thrust its scarlet horns skyward. Ghost-green flames licked along its sweeping tail, acid-bright, corroding whatever they touched. Viridian pupils fixed on the encircling cultivators; it roared, and concentric rings of hurricane-force sound battered them from the air. Only three sword-riding cultivators remained aloft.
Mu Weiyin spun a dense Bagua sword-shield around Lin Qianshuang and Mu Xiaochi. “Qianshuang, take Xiaochi through the barrier gap into Tianshu City. I alone will hold Taotie.”
Lin Qianshuang’s palm, locked around Mu Xiaochi’s, was slick with sweat. She had read the novel; she knew Mu Weiyin alone could never kill Taotie. The faintest hope lay in the mighty soul slumbering inside the child, and for that spark to ignite someone had to buy time.
Right now she could not, would not, walk away.
“Ah Yin, take Xiaochi and go. I’ll slow Taotie, avoid a straight fight, then slip back into the city the first chance I get.”
She pressed the girl into Mu Weiyin’s arms, reached skyward and opened her hand; the Thousand Rain Sword flashed into her grip. A quick seal dissolved Mu Weiyin’s sword array, and a small crescent portal shimmered before her. She stepped toward it, only to be yanked back.
Mu Weiyin’s voice was low, almost hoarse. “You are not leaving. Do you plan to fool me again and vanish without a word?”
Silver dusted the lashes of the woman opposite her, delicate as first frost. Misty black eyes, bright with unshed tears, showed pale-gold flecks rising from their depths, and the usually stern face bore a sorrow Lin Qianshuang had never seen.
Lin Qianshuang had never seen Mu Weiyin like this.
The City Lord of Tianshu was powerful, proud, and cold, yet the girl before her now was at a complete loss. A hush of loneliness clung to her; afraid of being abandoned, she gripped Lin Qianshuang’s sleeve and would not let go.
She could weep, could tremble with feeling. She was no longer the awe-inspiring statue that stood in Tianshu Hall.
Taotie had been sure those worthless cultivator ants would perish beneath its divine roar, but three tiny figures still hovered in the air, meeting its gaze.
Lin Qianshuang felt the beast’s stare. She knew she could not defeat it, yet she trusted Mu Weiyin and Mu Xiaochi; they would trap the monster before she fell.
A tug at her collar made her turn, and a chill kiss sealed her lips.
Mu Weiyin pulled open Lin Qianshuang’s collar, then cupped her chin and, eyes shut, deepened the kiss again and again. The steady rise and fall of the other woman’s breath calmed her, as though she herself had stepped into some long-lost scroll, finding sanctuary within the most impenetrable protective Spirit Array.
Only when the breath against her ear turned ragged and the pale cheeks flushed scarlet did she reluctantly let go.
“I won’t die. Wait for me and stay here with Xiaochi.”
The purple-clad figure vanished like a ghost, flashed in front of Taotie, and cut off its sight of her.
As their lips met, the Six-Petaled Spirit Mark between Mu Weiyin’s aloof brows had seemed to fade away. Lin Qianshuang could not tell if she had imagined it.
But what, exactly, had that kiss meant? She had not been allowed to struggle, not been allowed to refuse, only released when she was half suffocated and had to gasp like a supplicant.
Lin Qianshuang wiped her lips with her sleeve. A trace of blood tasted bitter on her tongue. Her dark eyes were cold, she was no more than a cauldron after all, a tool anyone could step on and exploit.