The Hua Sect | XianWang

Chapter 36. 暴风雨中

The images within the crystal ball began to take shape, revealing the man's enemies, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying, as they traveled through a dense forest. The man watched with a wicked grin, his fingers dancing across the surface of the crystal as he focused his power.

Suddenly, a storm erupted in the forest, fierce winds and torrential rain battering the warriors as they struggled to press on. The man's eyes narrowed in satisfaction as he watched the chaos unfold.

"You may be skilled cultivators," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the howling wind, "but you are no match for the power of my dark arts."

As Lan Zhan and Wei Ying pressed on through the dense forest, the sky grew dark and menacing. Suddenly, the storm broke, and rain poured down in sheets. The wind howled, and fierce corpses emerged from the shadows, their decaying bodies reeking of death.

Wei Ying's eyes glowed with an eerie light as he drew on his dark powers to command the corpses. "Attack them!" he shouted, his voice rising above the storm.

Lan Zhan's expression remained calm and composed as he drew his sword, the blade glowing with an otherworldly light. With swift and precise movements, he sliced through the corpses' heads, sending them crumbling to the ground.

"We must keep moving," Lan Zhan said, his voice steady and commanding. "The enemy is close."Wei Ying nodded, his gaze intense and focused. "I can sense him," he said, his voice barely audible above the howling wind. "He's powerful, but we can defeat him."

As they moved deeper into the forest, the storm raged on, and the corpses continued to attack. But Lan Zhan and Wei Ying fought with skill and determination, their bond stronger than ever as they faced the enemy together.

The battle raged on, and Lan Zhan and Wei Ying fought tirelessly, their bodies soaked to the bone from the relentless rain. But as they moved deeper into the forest, they realized that their enemy was still far off, his power growing stronger with each passing moment.

"We must find a way to get closer," Wei Ying said, his voice strained with exhaustion. "We can't defeat him from a distance."

Lan Zhan nodded, his gaze scanning the dense foliage around them. "There must be a path through the forest," he said, his voice calm and composed despite the chaos around them.

As the storm continued to rage, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying fought off wave after wave of fierce corpses. Their bodies were bruised and battered, their energy waning with each passing moment.

"We need to find shelter," Wei Ying gasped, his breathing ragged. "We won't last much longer in this storm."

Lan Zhan nodded in agreement, his own energy beginning to flag. "There's a cave up ahead," he said, pointing to a small opening in the rocky cliff face. "We can rest and regroup there."

With a burst of effort, they fought their way through the remaining corpses and stumbled into the cave. The air was damp and musty, but it was a welcome relief from the relentless rain.Wei Ying collapsed onto the cave floor, his chest heaving with exhaustion. Lan Zhan knelt beside him, his gaze filled with concern.

"Are you alright?" Lan Zhan asked, his voice low and gentle.

Wei Ying nodded weakly, his eyes closing as he tried to catch his breath. "Just... tired," he said. "Need to rest."

Lan Zhan nodded in understanding, his hand resting gently on Wei Ying's shoulder. "We'll rest here for a while," he said. "Then we'll continue our journey."

As they sat in silence, the storm raging outside, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in each other's presence.

The cave enveloped them, its walls echoing the rhythm of their breaths. Rain drummed against the entrance, a relentless symphony that seemed to follow them even here. Wei Ying's exhaustion weighed heavy on his bones, but the damp ground cradled him like a mother's embrace.

Lan Zhan, always the steadfast one, adjusted their meager belongings—a bundle of dried herbs, a flask of water. His touch was gentle, a silent promise that they would weather this storm together. Wei Ying wondered how many more battles lay ahead, how many more nights they would seek refuge in hidden places.

"Rest," Lan Zhan murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "I'll keep watch."

Wei Ying nodded, his eyelids drooping. The adrenaline that had carried them through the fight now ebbed, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness.

As Wei Ying drifted into sleep, he felt Lan Zhan's fingers brush his forehead—a silent benediction. The cave became their sanctuary, a cocoon where time slowed, and the world outside ceased to exist. Here, they were just two souls seeking solace.

When Wei Ying woke, the rain had softened to a gentle patter. Lan Zhan sat nearby, his expression unreadable. "We should move," he said. "The storm has passed."

Wei Ying pushed himself up, the ache in his muscles protesting. "Where to?" he asked.

Lan Zhan's gaze held a quiet determination. "To the heart of it," he replied. "Wherever that may be."

Lan Zhan's gaze met Wei Ying's, his eyes filled with determination. "We must find the heart of our enemy's power," he said, his voice firm. "It is the only way to end this."

Wei Ying nodded, his own resolve strengthening. They gathered their belongings, and with one last glance at their temporary sanctuary, they stepped out into the damp forest. The air was fresh with the scent of rain, the trees dripping quietly around them.

As the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a golden glow, Wei Ying glanced at Lan Zhan. "Thank you," he said, his voice raw with gratitude.

Lan Zhan inclined his head, his eyes soft. "Always," he whispered.

As they journeyed deeper into the heart of the forest, the shadows seemed to grow longer, the trees more twisted. It was as if the very forest itself was under the sway of their enemy's power. But Lan Zhan and Wei Ying pressed on, their footsteps steady and sure.

After what felt like hours, they reached a clearing. In the center stood a gnarled tree, its branches reaching up to the sky like grasping claws. The air around it seemed to crackle with energy, and Wei Ying could feel a cold shiver down his spine.

"This is it," Lan Zhan said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "The source of our enemy's power."

Wei Ying nodded, steeling himself for what was to come. They stepped forward, their hands reaching for their swords. The battle ahead would not be easy, but they had come too far to turn back now.

With a shared glance, they charged forward, their swords gleaming in the dim light of the forest. The tree seemed to pulse with energy, its branches lashing out at them. But Lan Zhan and Wei Ying fought with all their might, their swords slicing through the darkness.

Meanwhile in the heart of the Ling Yun sect, life flowed with a quiet determination. The absence of their sect leaders hung like a shadow, but the board members stepped into the void, their resolve unwavering. They were the guardians—the keepers of tradition and order.

Smooth sailing became their mantra. Meetings were held, decisions made, and the wheels of administration turned. The sect's coffers were balanced, the disciples' needs met. The elders, with their ink-stained robes, ensured that every scroll was accounted for, every record meticulously maintained.

And yet, beneath the surface, a current pulsed—a collective heartbeat. The disciples, their faces etched with purpose, trained relentlessly. The courtyards echoed with the clash of swords, the thud of fists against wooden dummies. They honed their skills, their bodies becoming vessels of strength.

Ling Xing, the youngest disciple, sparred with Ling Mei. Their swords danced—a symphony of steel. Wei Xing's eyes burned with determination. He had lost family to the darkness, and now he sought vengeance. Lan Mei, her movements fluid, whispered ancient mantras. She fought not for revenge, but for balance—for the delicate equilibrium between light and shadow.

In the herb garden, Ling Chen plucked leaves—ginseng, lotus root, and wolfsbane. His hands moved with reverence. Healing was his art, his connection to the earth. He knew that soon, these herbs would mend wounds, soothe fevered brows. The upcoming battle loomed, and he would be their lifeline.

. . . . . 

Published. 20.05.2024

Words. 1376