Chapter 951: The Young Man in the Bamboo Hat
No one knew the reason for Xiao De’s change, because no one dared to ask him, not even the clan chieftains.
The entire demon race knew he was cold and bad-tempered, although he had truly changed a great deal.
But many important figures in the demon race vaguely guessed at something.
Xiao De’s change had begun several years ago, just after he returned from the distant human capital of Kyoto.
During the upheaval at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, he had joined forces with Hua Jia Xiao Zhang and the Second Master of the Tang Clan to storm the Great Zhou Imperial Palace, fighting through a sea of blood, his spirit and will both severely tested.
But that was not the turning point for Xiao De’s change, because he had been on the winning side.
What truly stirred Xiao De and set his transformation in motion was something that happened that winter.
Kyoto was shrouded in wind and snow. Chen Changsheng was going to kill Zhou Tong.
Under orders from Lady Mu, Xiao De was to cooperate with the Great Zhou court to prevent Chen Changsheng from killing Zhou Tong—and, if possible, to kill Chen Changsheng himself.
At that time, Xiao De surpassed Chen Changsheng in both cultivation realm and strength, not to mention the many Star Gathering realm assassins he had as allies.
Yet in the end, Zhou Tong died, cut into a thousand pieces.
Chen Changsheng did not die, nor was he defeated.
Although many other things happened that day, and it was not a direct battle between Xiao De and Chen Changsheng, this incident still inflicted a profound sense of defeat on Xiao De.
He could not understand why.
Why was Chen Changsheng, so much younger than him and weaker in realm and strength, able to accomplish what he himself could not?
He pondered this question seriously, thinking about it for a long time, yet still reached no conclusion.
Since he could not figure it out, what would happen if he simply acted like Chen Changsheng?
That so-called change probably began at that moment.
As for the reason for the change, there could be none more compelling.
Whether in temperament or in that Yellow Thorn Fruit, it was all the same.
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North of the Heavenly Guard Pavilion lay the Imperial City.
The arena there was closest to the Imperial City.
The Second Prince of the Western Continent stood on that arena.
Because he had walked out from the Imperial City, and he did not want to go far.
He was merely going through the necessary procedural formalities; the outcome was already decided, so why walk far and waste his steps?
Shortly after Xiao De secured his first victory, the Second Prince of the Western Continent also won, equally as a matter of course, effortless and light.
From beginning to end, a light, effortless smile lingered on his face.
He did not say a word, nor did he take out any precious pills for the opponent he had defeated, because his opponent was not seriously injured and could even walk off the arena on his own.
Since he could still walk off the arena, he could naturally fight again. Given the demon race’s warlike nature and their emphasis on honor, for his opponent to retreat like this could only mean that during the battle, he had found no possibility of victory whatsoever. The gap in strength between the two sides was so vast that it had crushed even his confidence into dust.
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The morning mist finally began to dissipate. The morning sun hung like a false red ball deep in the distant mountains.
The Imperial City Observation Terrace was on the eastern side, the highest point in all of White Emperor City aside from the three stone halls within the palace. From there, one could overlook every part of the city.
Today, White Emperor City was somewhat strange. Most of its streets were utterly silent, with not a single figure in sight, while several dozen locations were extremely lively—exactly where the arenas were. Crowds packed the stone walls, looking from afar like ants.
Hundreds of Red River demon guards watched the commotion below with vigilance, their hands tightly gripping leather ropes. The other ends of those ropes were looped around the necks of black vultures. If anything went wrong below, they would mount the vultures and descend to suppress it with the utmost speed, far more convenient than the flying carriages used the night before to hunt down fugitives.
The important figures on the Observation Terrace, who had witnessed the entire process, felt a subtle shift in their emotions. Many gazes fell upon a certain elder.
That defeated contestant came from this elder’s tribe, a man long renowned for his ruthless methods. He had been deliberately arranged by certain factions within the Council of Elders as an opponent for the Second Prince of the Western Continent.
Yes, many important figures in the demon race were unwilling to see the Empress’s nephew become the next White Emperor.
Although the Heavenly Tree Wildfire could truly transform one’s soul and body, and although the fairness of the Heaven’s Chosen Ceremony was beyond doubt, unwillingness was still unwillingness.
Certain demon elders had thought that through these arrangements, they could easily block the Second Prince of the Western Continent. Who would have thought that he would win the first match so decisively that there was nothing to say?
The Second Prince of the Western Continent had not yet revealed his true strength. Would the subsequent arrangements prove effective?
Many important figures then turned their gazes to a figure as massive as a mountain.
The Grand Elder was indeed the chieftain of the Elephant Clan. Like his long-lived kin, he treasured every moment of rest.
At such a critical time, he had his eyes closed, as if asleep. Was he not worried about anything at all?
Suddenly, the Grand Elder opened his eyes and looked toward the arena on the meadow west of the Heavenly Guard Pavilion.
His eyes were calm and unruffled, not like the oldest well, but the stillest pool. Yet at that moment, a chill swept across that pool.
Several elders of formidable cultivation also sensed it. They followed his gaze to the arena on the meadow, their expressions subtly shifting.
The Grand Elder turned his head to glance at the higher ground, fell silent for a moment, said nothing, then closed his eyes again to rest—or to sleep.
Higher than the Imperial City Observation Terrace stood the stone hall. The Empress sat on a stone chair before the hall, looking down at White Emperor City from on high, her face expressionless, as if she had noticed nothing.
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The Heavenly Guard Pavilion was the site of the demon race’s Spring Sacrifice. Like the Imperial Palace and most buildings in White Emperor City, it was built of stone, but it was surrounded by a green river and ancient trees over a thousand years old, giving it a more secluded and serene atmosphere. The meadow sloping westward was especially beautiful in the morning light.
Because of the meadow and the green river, although this arena also had many spectators, they were kept at a relatively far distance. Thus, they did not clearly see what had just happened—not even as clearly as the important figures on the Imperial City Observation Terrace. They only knew that the victor and loser had been decided.
An old man of the Carp Clan, responsible for judging the match, looked at the person still standing on the arena. He wanted to say something, but suddenly felt a hollow unease in his heart and merely shook his head.
The defeated contestant had already been carried away. He had no external injuries but was unconscious. No one knew what method that person had used, but it seemed especially eerie.
The person on the arena was himself eerie. He wore a bamboo hat that concealed his entire face, but everyone who saw him could sense that he was very young. Moreover, a chilling, yin-cold aura naturally emanated from him, one that even the growing morning light and breeze could not dispel in the slightest.
A member of the Council of Elders responsible for supervision squinted at the young man in the bamboo hat and asked in a deep voice, “Which tribe are you from?”