Chapter 662: Rescuing Little Sister Qing Tan
Northern Xuan Region, City of Darkness.
On the Dark Plaza.
The plaza was packed tight with a sea of black‑clad figures stretching beyond the horizon, yet despite the terrifying size of the gathered crowd, heaven and earth were utterly silent.
The Dark Hall was holding its triennial Dark Festival.
In the brief span of two years, however, the Dark Hall had already changed hands.
Countless fearful gazes converged on the center of the plaza, where a black altar rose, its ten‑thousand‑step stairway climbing to a black throne at its peak.
Upon that throne sat a slender figure in a black dress. Dark‑golden runes lined the hem of her robe, lending her an air of solemnity and nobility.
Her face was calm and beautiful, her skin pale as snow, her brows like crescent moons, her jade nose straight and delicate.
Though her features had gained a trace of coldness and maturity, one could still see the lively outline of the girl she had once been. Who else could she be but Qing Tan?
She sat upon the throne, looking down over the sea of people in the Dark Plaza. Wherever her gaze passed, the forms below bowed humbly; few dared to look her in the eye.
Her cold, imperious eyes swept across the crowd. At last, she nodded lightly.
"Begin the festival."
At her soft command, a chorus of clear voices, borne up by powerful yuan power, rang out and rolled across the land.
Countless streams of black light surged into the sky like offerings in a grand feast.
Leaders of the various factions from across the Northern Xuan Region began to arrive in sequence. Their respectful voices echoed through heaven and earth.
"Sect Master of Northern Mang Sect, leading our sect to offer congratulations on the festival. May the Palace Master's might shake the realms and make all domains submit!"
"Lord of Great Snow Mountain, wishing the Palace Master's majesty to endure through the ages, peerless in power!"
"…!"
Wave after wave of reverent shouts resounded throughout the plaza. Yet the noble figure upon the altar showed not the slightest ripple in her gaze.
Her eyes shifted toward the foremost seats of the plaza. There sat those who opposed her: the Elder Council.
Even during such an important ceremony, they sat with eyes closed, not deigning to send even a token glance of respect toward the figure on the altar. Some curled their lips faintly in disdain.
At the head of the group sat two figures so aged they seemed already half‑buried in their coffins.
Two Samsara‑stage monsters.
Qing Tan's eyes lingered on them. A chill flashed beneath her cold gaze as the small hand hidden in her sleeve clenched, an icy killing intent flickering in the depths of her eyes.
The tedious flood of flattery continued on and on, filling heaven and earth. Yet everyone could sense that this year's festival was different from those before.
Some faction leaders exchanged furtive glances. They had already heard whispers before coming—this particular ceremony would be anything but peaceful.
At long last, the chorus of praise dwindled. As the final echoes faded, the air itself seemed to congeal.
"We respectfully ask the Palace Master to offer sacrifices to the ancestors!"
Two black‑robed elders beside the throne cried out together, their eyes feverish. Once the ritual succeeded, the title of Palace Master would be irrevocable, beyond all opposition.
The two elders at the front of the Elder Council finally cracked their eyes open. Their hands emerged slowly from their sleeves.
Behind them, the Great Elder of the Dark Hall saw this and a cold light flashed in his eyes. He nodded ever so slightly, then stood.
"Wait," he said coolly.
His shout froze the atmosphere of the entire plaza. Countless hearts clenched at once.
So it begins.
"Great Elder, why do you block the Palace Master from honoring the ancestors?!" the two black‑robed elders snapped, their faces darkening.
The Great Elder cast them a frosty glance, then turned his eyes to Qing Tan.
"By the rules of the hall, only a Palace Master unanimously approved by the Elder Council is qualified to perform the ancestral rites.
"We do not recognize that this so‑called 'new Palace Master' has passed that vote," he said calmly.
The two black‑robed elders stiffened and turned to Qing Tan.
Her eyes grew even colder as she stared at the Great Elder. Her voice rang out like ice. "Great Elder, before my master passed, he personally entrusted me with the position of Palace Master. That command, by our own rules, supersedes the Elder Council."
The Great Elder snorted, flicking his sleeve. "Words are cheap.
"To become master of the hall, you know you must hold our two sacred relics, don't you?"
Qing Tan's gaze frosted over. A rune slowly appeared at the center of her brows.
As it emerged, the world dimmed. A vast, ancient power spread outward, plunging heaven and earth into shadow.
The aura of the Darkness Ancestral Symbol.
Feeling that fluctuation, greed flashed in the Great Elder's eyes.
"That is one," he sneered. "And the other?"
Qing Tan's jade‑white arm slipped from her sleeve. Her slender fingers closed lightly, and black light gathered in her palm, condensing into a massive black scythe covered in intricate ancient runes.
The moment it appeared, a wave of cold washed over the plaza. It felt as if the scythe were the reaper's own blade.
"This is the Dark Hall's second sacred artifact—the Dark Saint Scythe, ranked fifth on the Ancient Divine Artifact List.
"Great Elder, do you have anything else to say?"
Her face was frigid as she stood beneath the darkened sky like a death god cloaked in shadow.
The Great Elder's old face twitched as he stared at the weapon in her hand. But instead of replying, he turned his eyes to the two elders at the very front.
Under his gaze, they slowly opened their eyes fully. Their blank stares fell on Qing Tan.
"Young girl, are you certain that the Dark Saint Scythe in your hand is truly complete?" one of them asked, his flat voice drifting across the plaza.
The question sent a jolt through every heart present.
Many in the crowd looked at the two elders with naked fear.
"Girl," they continued with a cold chuckle, "the Dark Saint Scythe's first master was the Darkness Master.
"However, in the great war of the Ancient Era, this artifact was grievously damaged and its spirit destroyed before the broken scythe finally fell into the hands of our hall's first Palace Master.
"He spent his entire life searching for a way to restore it. In the end, he offered himself as a sacrifice to the blade at the moment of his death, reforging the spirit and returning the scythe to perfection.
"Later on, due to… certain incidents, the scythe spirit vanished without a trace.
"To be frank, that was your master's failure.
"Out of respect for his merits, we said nothing. But this mistake cannot be allowed to stand any longer."
Qing Tan's face darkened, her hand tightening around the scythe as killing intent burned in her eyes.
She had suspected as much herself.
But she was no longer the little girl she once was.
She forced down her turmoil and let her expression smooth. "Oh? In that case, I thank you for the reminder. So this Dark Saint Scythe is not yet complete."
The Great Elder brightened at once. He opened his mouth to press the point—
But Qing Tan spoke first.
"From this day on, retrieving the scythe spirit will be my responsibility.
"If I fail to find it, my master will never be able to rest in peace."
The Great Elder nearly choked. In the blink of an eye, she had sidestepped the entire issue.
"The search for the scythe spirit is a task for the Dark Hall as a whole.
"In any case, until the two sacred relics are united, the position of Palace Master is incomplete," the two elders said flatly, refusing to let go.
"Hmph. When all's said and done, the Darkness Ancestral Symbol is the true badge of the Palace Master.
"I have respected you as seniors and shown restraint.
"But if you continue to press me, I will wield the Darkness Ancestral Symbol to cleanse the hall!" Qing Tan's voice turned glacial, bloodthirsty intent leaking into the air.
The two elders leaned forward, their oppressive auras rising to meet the Ancestral Symbol's power and forcing it back.
The air crackled with tension.
On the altar, Qing Tan's hand tightened around the Dark Saint Scythe. Fine veins stood out on the back of her snow‑white hand, and her slender body trembled slightly.
After a long moment, she drew a deep breath. Rage and bloodlust flared in her eyes.
"Where is the Judgment Army?!"
"Here!"
Thousands of black‑clad figures around the altar sprang to their feet, their unified shout booming like thunder.
"Traitors have disrupted the hall and sought to usurp the Palace Master's seat, violating the laws of our hall.
"What is their sentence?!"
"Death!"
The single word resounded like the roar of a tidal wave, filling the plaza with killing intent.
"How dare you!"
The two elders' faces darkened as they surged to their feet, their voices like whips.
"If you insist on forcing this, then I, as Palace Master, will see whether the Darkness Ancestral Symbol can pass judgment on you!"
Qing Tan shouted back, her tone like iron.
Black light erupted from her body, plunging the world into total darkness.
"You wretched girl.
"Did you really think we would risk this if the Darkness Ancestral Symbol could restrain us?"
The elders' cold laughter echoed through the darkness.
They shot into the air, their hands forming complex seals as twin beams of light shot from their fingers into an ancient stone stele below.
"Unfilial descendants beg the ancestral spirits—suppress the Ancestral Symbol!"
Their voices rang out together.
The stone stele shuddered, and a pillar of inky light blasted into the sky.
Qing Tan's face went pale. She could feel the Darkness Ancestral Symbol inside her being forcibly pinned down.
"And you thought you could fight us with just that?" one of the elders sneered.
His fingers flicked outward.
Two black beams suffused with the aura of Samsara ripped through the sky like lightning, streaking toward the altar and Qing Tan.
Sensing mortal danger, she clenched her teeth and gripped the Dark Saint Scythe, ready to pour all she had into a desperate defense.
Boom!
Before she could move, thunder exploded through the sky.
Everyone looked up in shock.
Dark clouds had gathered overhead. Two massive thunder dragons, each thousands of zhang long, descended in a flash and shattered the twin black beams.
With a pair of furious roars, the dragons lunged at the elders.
The two old monsters started, flinging out their hands as terrifying power burst from them to meet the dragons head‑on.
Thud!
Lightning erupted in all directions.
The elders were driven back over a hundred steps, their faces finally changing.
"Who?!" they shouted.
Rumble!
Two more bolts of thunder came crashing down and landed before Qing Tan.
The lightning slowly faded.
Two tall, slender forms appeared under countless stunned gazes.
"Protect the Palace Master!"
The two black‑robed elders beside the throne rushed in front of her, staring warily at the newcomers as hundreds of black‑clad figures surged forward to encircle her.
The last arcs of lightning flickered and died.
The two newly arrived figures exchanged a smile, then turned to face Qing Tan.
Their gentle smiles met the sight of her suddenly rigid form.
She stared at them. The Dark Saint Scythe slipped from her numb fingers, clattering loudly against the ground.
She looked blankly at the two familiar silhouettes. Tears welled in her once‑cold eyes, one shimmering drop at a time.
Pushing aside the guards in front of her, Qing Tan stepped forward, her legs trembling.
Then her pace quickened.
Tears burst free like a broken dam.
At last, she threw herself at the two men and clung to them, sobbing loudly beneath the stunned eyes of the Judgment Army.
She held them tightly as her tears flowed without end, her hoarse cries echoing from the altar and rolling endlessly across the plaza.
Below, many in the crowd stared at the green‑robed figure in shock.
Wiping their eyes and looking again, they finally cried out:
"Isn't that the Shadow Guard who vanished two years ago—Lin Langtian?!"
(END CHAPTER)
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