Chapter 173: Quiet Stillness
Chen Changsheng still had some things he couldn't figure out.
That night at the Mausoleum of Books, the monk from the foreign continent hadn't been a real physical body; he had arrived through some method using his divine soul.
The two angels from the Holy Light Continent that Bie Yanghong had encountered were clearly physical entities. How had they come?
If travel between the two continents was so easy, why hadn't anyone from the Holy Light Continent appeared before?
He posed his questions to Bie Yanghong and also asked how the ancient tribes had managed to flee to the Holy Light Continent back then—what method had they used?
More crucially, what exactly was the relationship between the demon race and the Holy Light Continent?
Bie Yanghong didn't give specific answers because he wasn't confident his guesses were correct and didn't want to influence Chen Changsheng's judgment.
He said to Chen Changsheng, "About these matters, you should ask your teacher."
That statement wasn't wrong. Shang Xingzhou was undoubtedly the person in this world who understood the Holy Light Continent the best.
He had picked up Chen Changsheng by the stream, driven away the golden dragon, and invited the divine soul of that ancient tribe monk to this world to strike at the Heavenly Sea Saint Empress.
Every event related to the Holy Light Continent bore his shadow or involvement.
And those events were all connected to Chen Changsheng.
He didn't know what to say.
Bie Yanghong looked at him solemnly and said, "You must be careful."
Chen Changsheng understood his meaning.
The sacred battle two days ago had been a blatant encirclement and slaughter of human strongholds by Madam Mu and the demon race, targeting human experts. What was even more alarming was that it had already involved the foreign races beyond the starry sky. Humanity needed to respond with the utmost force. As the Pope, Chen Changsheng naturally had to shoulder that responsibility, but he would also face immense pressure.
Most importantly, he had to figure out exactly what Shang Xingzhou was thinking.
Those were matters for later. For now, he already had plenty to deal with.
Chen Changsheng glanced at Wujiong Bi.
Wujiong Bi glared back fiercely.
Chen Changsheng withdrew his gaze and said to Bie Yanghong, "You really don't need to say anything?"
Bie Yanghong shook his head.
Chen Changsheng looked again at the unconscious Xuan Yuan Po.
Xuan Yuan Po was extremely burly, with a full beard that made him look older, but in truth, he was the youngest of the National Teaching Academy.
Chen Changsheng, Tang Thirty-Six, Su Moyu, and Zhexiu often liked to tease Xuan Yuan Po, but they also doted on him.
He didn't know when Xuan Yuan Po would wake up.
……
……
Chen Changsheng walked out of the small courtyard and instructed the Western Wasteland Archdiocese Archbishop that no one was allowed to step within the alley's entrance.
The Archbishop murmured his agreement, not asking stupid questions like what if so-and-so came—since no one was allowed to step within the alley's entrance, that meant even if the White Emperor and Madam Mu came, or Shang Xingzhou and the Emperor arrived, they couldn't enter.
Sensing the dozens of strong auras in the streets of Songting Town and the very clear aura of the palace formation, Chen Changsheng felt a bit more at ease.
With a crane's cry, he mounted the white crane and flew into the air. The hundreds of swords around the small courtyard whistled as they broke through the air, following him.
He knew things should be fine over there, but he still couldn't help feeling some worry and tension.
So he didn't notice that before leaving, the white crane glanced at the Heavenly Tree Servant Temple, as if seeking someone's permission.
……
……
Confirming that Chen Changsheng had left, Wujiong Bi immediately perked up and shouted at Bie Yanghong, "Are you out of your mind! What if something went wrong?"
She was referring to how Bie Yanghong had just used a single finger to transmit the experience and wisdom of that sacred battle to Chen Changsheng.
This was a secret technique passed down through the Western Mausoleum Longevity Pavilion for over seven thousand years, called "One Point Red."
A teacher could use this method to directly impart their cultivation insights to a disciple.
This Dao technique was quite miraculous, but also equally dangerous. A slight misstep could lead to backlash from the Dao technique.
In the past, it was only used before the Grand Examination or the opening of the Zhou Garden, when the Western Mausoleum Longevity Pavilion would select exceptionally talented but inexperienced students to receive this method.
If this Dao technique were used to transfer cultivation power to a descendant disciple, it would be even more perilous, almost certainly fatal for both the caster and the receiver. For this reason, in over seven thousand years, such a thing had only happened twice in the Western Mausoleum Longevity Pavilion.
Watching Bie Yanghong's finger land on Chen Changsheng's brow, Wujiong Bi had been genuinely worried, and her anger now had some justification.
Bie Yanghong looked at her quietly, saying nothing.
Wujiong Bi suddenly remembered how, over the past two days, he had often looked at her like this without speaking. Then she recalled how, in the last two years, he had often gazed quietly at the distant mountains without saying a word. Then she thought of what people said when they looked at the two of them, and the things those people said with their eyes—like Wang Po and the others... She suddenly felt a pang of panic and fell uneasily silent.
Bie Yanghong had been married to her for many years, so he naturally knew what she was thinking. He smiled faintly and touched her head.
Wujiong Bi grew even more flustered, because in recent years, though Bie Yanghong still respected and protected her, it had been a long time since he had made such an intimate gesture.
To dispel her unease, she awkwardly changed the subject and asked, "Why didn't you tell him that Xu Yourong came?"
"The Holy Maiden didn't reveal herself, which means she didn't want Chen Changsheng to know. Naturally, it's not my place to say more."
Bie Yanghong thought for a moment, then said to her earnestly, "In the future, you should show more respect to His Holiness the Pope and the Holy Maiden."
Wujiong Bi said irritably, "I can't be bothered with all that hypocritical nonsense. Anyway, for your sake, they won't do anything to me. Don't tell me you're planning to abandon me?"
Bie Yanghong didn't speak, only let out a sigh.
Thinking of his earlier actions, Wujiong Bi grew uneasy again and muttered, "At worst, I'll change my temper in the future and kill fewer people."
Bie Yanghong still said nothing.
Wujiong Bi's expression turned ugly. "Are you really planning to shake me off?"
The more she thought about it, the more she felt it might be true. Both anxious and angry, she burst into tears and then began to curse him loudly.
To Bie Yanghong, the content of her curses was nothing new—just the same old lines about an ungrateful old man, a heartless poor scholar, and how if it weren't for her back then, this and that. But just as he was starting to get truly annoyed...
Wujiong Bi said through her tears, "Now I've lost my hand, and I've lost my son. If you leave too, what am I supposed to do?"
Bie Yanghong sighed, pulled her into his arms, and gently patted her back to keep her from crying herself into a faint.
Her temper had always been this fierce; he had always known it and could never do anything about it.
After who knows how long, Wujiong Bi tired herself out from crying and cursing, leaning against his chest as she fell into a deep sleep.
Even in her dreams, her left hand still tightly gripped his collar, as if afraid he would quietly slip away.
Bie Yanghong didn't sleep. He quietly looked at her face, lost in thought.
……
……
The mist among the mountains dispersed.
From the distant cliff below came the faint sound of waves.
Chen Changsheng dismounted from the white crane and walked forward.
Ahead stood a towering celestial tree.
At the base of the tree was a large hole.
Inside was a small hut.
A black-clad girl stood quietly in front of the hut. (To be continued.)