Chapter 13: The Time of the Sages
Passing through the stone pillars, he entered the sacred path leading deep into the detached palace.
The instructors and students of the Detached Palace Annex, the Ancestral Sacrifice Institute, and the Azure Radiance Thirteen Divisions stood on both sides of the sacred path, bowing in salute.
Some stories had once unfolded on this sacred path, but Chen Changsheng did not dwell on them; he continued forward.
He ascended the long, endless steps, passed the Qingxian Hall, and finally reached that quiet, secluded hall.
The night sky was divided into well-like patches by the eaves, just as before, but the wooden ladle was no longer by the pool, because that basin of green leaves was gone.
An Hua knelt in salute; her white ceremonial robes were stirred by the slightly cold night breeze, just like her agitated emotions at that moment.
Chen Changsheng nodded in acknowledgment and told her to rise.
An Hua walked behind him, helped him into his sacred robe, and carefully adjusted it for a long time.
Chen Changsheng gazed at the somewhat narrow night sky, looking at the stars at the bottom of that well, recalling the insights he had gained while gazing at the sea of stars in the White Emperor City.
After an unknown amount of time, he withdrew his gaze and said, "Let's go."
Accompanied by the gentle, purifying sound of water, he walked to the deepest part of the quiet side hall, before that stone wall.
The stone wall slowly parted, and countless blazing rays of light rushed toward him, accompanied by an unending sound of waves.
Those wave-like sounds were sometimes the rustling of robes as people prostrated themselves, sometimes the voices of people either excited or reverent, reciting praises to the saint.
"We pay homage to Your Holiness, the Pope."
Countless priests knelt like a tide, bowing to the ground.
Chen Changsheng wore the sacred crown and held the divine staff, looking at the scene before him with a very calm expression.
Starting from that year in the Cold Mountain Town, such scenes had appeared more and more frequently.
Just like the most common description—like a tide.
None of this was new to him anymore.
He had grown accustomed to seas of people.
Nor was this the first time he had stood here.
The place where he stood was the platform of the Radiant Hall.
This was not the highest point of the detached palace, but it was certainly the most unattainable position on the entire continent.
It was only a dozen stone steps away from the ground, yet it felt as if it were separated by countless thousands of miles, already within a divine kingdom among the seas of stars.
Accompanied by the devout sounds of praise to the saint, the chanting of the sacred scriptures then arose, and a solemn, holy atmosphere enveloped the entire Radiant Hall.
Warm holy light illuminated everything in the hall with incomparable brightness; even the slightest darkness could not exist here.
Inside the Radiant Hall, there was an extremely high stone wall.
Carved upon it were images of former sages, heroes, guardian knights, and saints, all illuminated by the holy light in vivid detail, as if they were about to come to life.
Those former sages, heroes, guardian knights, and saints looked down upon the mortal world from on high.
Their gazes were not indifferent but filled with many genuine emotions.
Chen Changsheng stood before the stone wall, standing in the holy light.
He bore those gazes.
He was looking at the mortal world.
This scene was utterly sacred.
...
...
Chen Changsheng raised the divine staff in his hand.
The sounds of praise to the saint gradually ceased, and the priests slowly rose, still like a tide.
The Radiant Hall suddenly became very quiet; even the sound of the breeze that had luckily passed through the formations brushing against the stone wall could be clearly heard by everyone.
Or perhaps it was because, before the divine staff was lowered again, the sea of people in the hall had already parted into two sides.
Linghai Zhiwang, Archbishop Anlin, Priest Siyuan, and Hu Sanshier—these four leaders of the state religion—stood on the right side.
Hundreds of bishops from the detached palace and those who had rushed back from various halls stood behind them.
The number of bishops on the other side was much smaller, with not a single Grand Archbishop of the Holy Hall, but there were very many Red Archbishops.
These bishops all shared one characteristic: their faces were somewhat aged.
No matter where, the years and seniority represented by such agedness were a kind of power in themselves.
The bishops of the Sacred Pivot Office were also among them. More importantly, the Heavenly Dao Academy, the Azure Radiance Thirteen Divisions, and the Ancestral Sacrifice Institute were also on this side.
Only the Detached Palace Annex, heavily influenced by Linghai Zhiwang, was absent; its dean stood among the crowd with Su Moyu, deliberately keeping a low profile.
Zhuang Zhihuan and the three bishops of the Sacred Pivot Office stood at the very front of the crowd, making no attempt to hide their presence or their intentions.
Chen Changsheng glanced at Zhuang Zhihuan, then looked toward a certain corner outside the hall.
The holy light enveloped the entire hall, and some of it spilled outside.
It tore open a rift in the deep darkness outside the hall, illuminating a certain corner.
Archbishop Meichuan was there.
No matter how warm the holy light was, it could not drive away the chill on his body.
Because he was already dead.
...
...
Back when Chen Changsheng had just assumed the papacy, he had been expelled from the capital by Shang Xingzhou.
He was an exiled pope.
Three years later, he returned to the detached palace, and for the first time, he presided over the Radiant Assembly as the pope, only to face a very thorny problem.
The priests of the Sacred Pivot Office, Zhuang Zhihuan and his followers, and those aged Red Archbishops were all watching him.
In the eyes of these old-school bishops, emotions like grief and indignation could be clearly seen.
Of course, they still maintained sufficient respect for Chen Changsheng and controlled their emotions very well.
Otherwise, Archbishop Meichuan's remains would not be in that corner outside the hall at this moment, but might have appeared inside the Radiant Hall, placed right before them.
Linghai Zhiwang looked at that side with a blank expression, his gaze very cold, his face very ugly.
After learning of the events at the National Academy, he had been keeping a close watch on the Sacred Pivot Office and these aged priests.
He had not expected that they would still manage to transport Archbishop Meichuan's remains into the detached palace and place them outside the Radiant Hall.
He considered this a blatant provocation against himself, and of course, also a warning to himself.
It showed that the detached palace was not a monolithic entity.
The strength of the old-school faction of the state religion should not be underestimated; there might be people secretly supporting them.
Linghai Zhiwang narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze shifting between Hu Sanshier and Archbishop Anlin, wondering who that person could be.
Tonight was the first time His Holiness the Pope had convened the Radiant Assembly, and such an incident was an unbearable act of disrespect to him.
But he knew that it was not convenient for him to do anything more at this moment, let alone have someone directly carry away Archbishop Meichuan's remains.
Too many people had seen this scene, and too crude a solution might cause some priests to lose control of their emotions.
Of course, he believed that with His Holiness the Pope's prestige and their own status, they could forcibly suppress the current situation.
The problem was that the rift would not disappear; instead, it would grow deeper and deeper.
Clearly, this was not what His Holiness the Pope wanted.
Linghai Zhiwang looked at Chen Changsheng and suddenly felt a sense of anticipation.
Many bishops in the hall who were seeing Chen Changsheng for the first time had no particular stance on the old-new conflict; they were mostly curious, or rather, expectant.
How would His Holiness the Pope resolve this matter?
Yes, it was the Saintess who killed Archbishop Meichuan, and Prince Chenliu had witnessed the entire process.
Everyone knew the relationship between the Saintess and His Holiness the Pope. She had made the choice for you, and naturally, she had also prepared the reason for you.
Logically speaking, Chen Changsheng only needed to state that reason at this moment to resolve the matter.
But for some reason, including Linghai Zhiwang, all the priests, and even those old-school priests, did not believe he would do so.
No reason, no cause—perhaps it was just because the stories of these past years had long proven that he would not act that way. (To be continued.)