Chapter 91 — The Oriole

With Yuyang Zi's onslaught, the Longevity Hall disciples' pressure eased at once, and in the twinkling of an eye most had withdrawn, leaving a field strewn with corpses—a sight that wrung Yuyang Zi's heart with fresh pain.

But just then Xiao Yichen and the others on the righteous side had caught up, now joined by Song Dayi, Zeng Shuyan and Wen Pei of the Canglan Sect, Fajing of the Brahma Sound Temple, and Yan Fei of the Burning Cloud Valley—eight in all. Their treasures came forth together, and they enclosed Yuyang Zi and attacked from every side.

With a shrill cry, Yuyang Zi's blood was up, every savage trait in his nature surfacing at once, and not a trace of fear showed on his face. The Yin-Yang Mirror whirled and danced, warding left and right, drawing and redirecting attacks, and he battled those eight from the ground to midair and from midair back to the ground.

But the righteous side had the numbers and the strength, and every one of them was of no mean cultivation. However great Yuyang Zi's divine powers, in the end he was one against many, and the momentum of the Yin-Yang Mirror was gradually pressed down.

The eight righteous cultivators darted and leaped through the air, their coordination growing ever more seamless. Ugly as it might look, eight besieging one, a single thought set their minds at ease—"This is the great demon chief of the wicked Demonic Cult"—and every move they made was a killing stroke, aimed at the vital points.

Yet Yuyang Zi's cultivation, tempered over several hundred years, was no ordinary thing. Amid the flash of blades and the gleam of swords, though he was gradually losing the power to strike back and the pressure around him mounted, let Xiao Yichen and the others attack however wildly, they could not breach the black-and-white mystic radiance of his Yin-Yang Mirror.

Moreover, as he moved, he subtly drew the whole melee with him, drifting toward one side—had not Xiao Yichen been so quick-witted, suddenly recalling that a fellow disciple had just perished there and crying out at the top of his voice: "Careful—the swamp!"

Only then was everyone warned, and moments later they discovered that Yuyang Zi had indeed, all unnoticed, led them to the edge of the bottomless pits. One careless step and a man would sink—it was truly perilous beyond words.

That Yuyang Zi could keep such composure and such judgment, such depth of experience, amid the chaos of battle—this was plainly beyond the reach of these youngsters.

Yet for all his experience and towering cultivation, facing this band of young masters—high in cultivation, fine in talent, peerless in treasure, and among them men of such steady judgment—he could do nothing.

The eight, with Xiao Yichen at their head, struck as one, and in an instant countless strange lights and uncanny rays came raining upon the Yin-Yang Treasure Mirror in Yuyang Zi's hand. His whole body shook; he felt the crushing pressure come on like mountains and seas, wave upon wave. His foes could rest a little after each strike, but he could only parry without pause, with no chance to recover his strength. After a dozen or more such parries he could hold out no longer and could only fall back, drawing gradually away from the bottomless pits.

Once he was clear of the pits, the righteous cultivators set their hearts at ease and pressed the assault on Yuyang Zi all the more freely.

Yuyang Zi grew hard-pressed by degrees. From the corner of his eye he swept the field and saw that in those few moments most of the Longevity Hall disciples had withdrawn, and Meng Ji and the few others were hurrying toward him to cover his retreat—but more righteous disciples were closing in from every side.

A chill seized Yuyang Zi's heart. He knew that if these twenty or thirty closed the ring about him, no cultivation however high would save him from dying here. He parried aside the Xuanyuan Sword that Zeng Shuyan thrust at him from the front and bellowed: "Go, all of you, quickly!"

Meng Ji and the others started, then turned and fled. Yuyang Zi had no wish to prolong the fight; the Yin-Yang Mirror in his hand flashed once and again, and suddenly white light blazed forth, dazzling bright. In an instant the five treasures that had reached his side were all shaken back and turned upon their masters.

The righteous side had not expected such skill from him still, and was thrown into confusion, a small gap opening in their formation.

With his wealth of experience, Yuyang Zi at once transformed into a beam of strange light and shot toward it like lightning.

Scarce had he moved when he was already beside the gap, on the verge of breaking through. Xiao Yichen and the others were farther behind him and could not catch up.

But at that very moment a jade-green light flared, brilliant and blinding: the Slaying Dragon Sword came howling down, cleaving straight at his face—by the look of it, meaning in truth to split Yuyang Zi in two.

Yuyang Zi was caught unprepared, yet at this juncture of life and death he still wrenched his body three parts to the right by sheer force. The jade-green light slashed straight down and thundered past his side, his sleeves fluttering, shredded to dust by that green radiance.

Yuyang Zi's left arm had long since been severed, which now proved a blessing; otherwise, under such agony, whether he could have kept his composure was another matter. Yet his left side burned with searing pain—doubtless he had still been grazed by the jade edge of the murderous Slaying Dragon Sword. His body did not pause; his right hand flipped over, the Yin-Yang Mirror flared with black light, and he swept it out sideways. A muffled grunt was heard, and Lin Jinghong staggered back, every wound so lately bandaged burst open afresh, blood spurting once more!

Now no righteous disciple barred his way. Joy rose in Yuyang Zi's heart; he was about to put forth his strength, and in the same breath he cursed inwardly—for the humiliations he had suffered today at the hands of these righteous whelps, he would repay a hundredfold one day.

Above the Dead Marsh, of a sudden a thunderclap burst forth!

Every head turned!

A brilliant blue light stretched across the horizon; the black clouds of the sky spun furiously like a snarling vortex. Lu Xueling stood upright in midair, a bitter wind keening about her, her peerless face like ice, like frost!

Far off in the darkness, it seemed someone's body gave a faint shudder.

That beautiful woman stood poised in the void, and walked seven paces upon the empty air, chanting an incantation. In an instant lightning writhed across the heavens, like enormous serpents of light threading through the clouds.

Yuyang Zi's face changed drastically, but before he could make any response, Lu Xueling's "Divine Sword Art of Thunder" was already unleashed. A vast bolt of lightning came thundering down from the sky and struck the tip of the Tianya Sword; blue light blazed forth, lighting up half the cloud-heavy heavens in an instant.

At this moment Lu Xueling no longer showed the least strain she had felt in that contest with Zhang Qingyue years ago. The lightning that filled the sky was mirrored in the depths of her pupils, as though she had returned to bygone days!

A colossal pillar of light refracted downward. Before it touched the ground the righteous disciples nearby had already scattered, and within several zhang of Yuyang Zi the wind howled; trees and waterweeds were torn up root and all—a spectacle of appalling might!

Yuyang Zi gave a long, shrill cry; his robes billowed out all about him, and the Yin-Yang Mirror rose floating into the air, radiating the twin wonders of black and white, which in an instant fused into one. Plainly, after that fierce battle, Yuyang Zi too had spent every ounce of his strength, staking all on a desperate defense!

"Boom..."