Chapter 14: The Devil’s Idea
Everyone expected Chen Changsheng to offer a perfect solution, including the most stubborn old-school bishops.
The aged bishops looked at Chen Changsheng with complex expressions.
He was Shang Xingzhou’s student, a young man personally nurtured by Meri, an undisputed heir of the Xining lineage and the orthodox successor of the state religion. By all logic, he should have sided with them, yet he did not.
He had elevated the King of Linghai and Daoist Siyuan to power, and after executing Daoist Baishi in Wenshui City, he had made no attempt to appease the old school. Instead, he appointed Hu Sanshier, a new-school bishop with a notoriously bad reputation, to fill Baishi’s position.
It was precisely these actions that had ignited intense dissatisfaction among the old school of the state religion, leading to the current situation.
But even now, no one wanted—or dared—to think about driving him from the position of Pope.
They still held hope for Chen Changsheng.
Yet they themselves didn’t know what they hoped Chen Changsheng could do.
Bishop Meichuan’s body still lay in the night outside the hall.
That was Xu Yourong’s choice.
Chen Changsheng could have gone along with it, but he wouldn’t.
Because the Daoist teachings he had cultivated since childhood made it impossible for him to deceive himself, no matter what.
Even though this might be a necessary quality for those who achieve great things.
He suddenly recalled what Bieyanghong had said in the White Emperor City.
There was, of course, a vast difference between the two, but a comparison could be made.
He also remembered the words Meri had spoken to him before his death many years ago.
“Just now, as I walked along the sacred path, I thought back to the events before the Grand Examination that year.”
A nostalgic smile appeared on Chen Changsheng’s face.
Everyone knew he was referring to the time when Meri had declared to the entire continent that Chen Changsheng would become the top scholar of the Grand Examination.
The reminiscence couldn’t continue. The atmosphere, which might have softened into warmth, grew tense again.
Because a cold, harsh voice rang out from the crowd.
“And in the end, you killed his only nephew!”
The hall fell into an eerie silence.
Chen Changsheng remained silent.
Yes, someone had sent Meichuan to the National Academy as a tutor, precisely to put him in a difficult position.
Whether he killed him or not, it was a dilemma.
That was why Tang Thirty-Six, without hesitation, had turned and headed to the small building, ready to draw his sword and slay Meichuan.
That was why Xu Yourong had killed Meichuan.
They were his closest people, the ones who best understood his heart and feelings, so they didn’t let him choose, didn’t let him bear the infamy.
But at that time, he hadn’t stopped Tang Thirty-Six, so it was also his choice.
What lies above the starry sea belongs to the divine kingdom.
What lies beneath the filth returns to dust.
“I will bear all the blame I deserve.”
Chen Changsheng looked calmly at the crowd.
He didn’t use warm memories to bridge the rift between the old and new schools, nor did he offer sufficiently convincing reasons.
There was no explanation, and naturally, no solution.
He chose to bear it calmly.
The Hall of Light erupted in uproar, exclamations ringing out incessantly.
The expressions of the clergy shifted constantly, extremely complex.
Some were disappointed, some were gratified, some were confused, some were lost.
Chen Changsheng was willing to bear all the blame.
The question was, beneath the starry sky, who could pass judgment on the Pope?
This wasn’t a sage’s self-reflection; it was the coldest declaration.
From the crowd came a few more sighs of utter disappointment, along with questions.
Chen Changsheng stood still, gripping the divine staff, and said nothing more.
The King of Linghai stepped forward, took out a dossier that had been prepared long ago, and unrolled it with both hands, beginning to read aloud.
As his utterly cold voice recited one name after another, the clamor in the hall gradually subsided into silence.
Only the increasingly heavy breathing and the denser sound of footsteps remained.
The pale-faced, repulsive black executors of the Tribunal of Heaven led more than ten bishops out from the crowd.
One of the three Red Cardinals overseeing the affairs of the Sacred Office was stripped of his clerical rank on the spot.
The King of Linghai’s voice carried no emotion, as sharp and clear as the keenest blade.
He read out the charges against this Red Cardinal.
These charges had nothing to do with tonight’s events, but they were very clear, with solid evidence.
The Red Cardinal offered no resistance and calmly followed the black executors out of the hall.
Watching his somewhat desolate back, Zhuang Zhihuan and the others’ expressions shifted slightly.
The atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly tense and oppressive, until finally, a crack was torn open.
A bishop who had already been dragged to the hall’s entrance struggled to turn around, shouting sharply at the platform, “Are you going to be a cold-hearted monarch?!”
Everyone recognized the voice—it was the one who had first questioned Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng did not answer, standing quietly on the platform, gripping the divine staff.
Zhuang Zhihuan finally stepped forward, bowed calmly, and said, “Should we wait until the Grand Archbishop breaks through his seclusion before making the final decision?”
Countless gazes fell on him.
Everyone understood his meaning.
The Sacred Office was now directly under Mao Qiuyu’s jurisdiction.
Mao Qiuyu was about to become the only sacred-domain powerhouse in the current state religion.
Zhuang Zhihuan’s words were a reminder, even a threat.
The King of Linghai glanced at him expressionlessly, said nothing, but a barely concealed killing intent flickered in his cold eyes.
Zhuang Zhihuan’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes fixed on Chen Changsheng.
At that moment, an unexpected person stepped forward.
Archbishop Anlin said gravely, “When a sage walks among the stars, he should be as if treading on the edge of an abyss…”
“That’s from the final section of the Dao Source Ode.”
Chen Changsheng didn’t let her finish.
He turned to her and said, “This passage of the Dao canon speaks of reverence.”
Archbishop Anlin bowed and replied, “Yes.”
Chen Changsheng said to her, “In that regard, I do better than you.”
Anlin was momentarily stunned, then saw several figures in the night outside the hall.
It was with the help of those people that Meichuan’s remains had been transported into the palace tonight.
What was reverence? The starry sea? The great Dao? Or the lives of family and subordinates?
She was silent for a long time, then sighed and said, “How did you know?”
Chen Changsheng didn’t answer that question.
Earlier, behind the stone wall, Anhua had trembled as he adjusted Chen Changsheng’s robes and whispered a few words.
Archbishop Anlin gave up pressing further, her voice slightly hoarse as she said, “How do you plan to deal with me?”
Chen Changsheng said, “I said I would bear all the blame.”
Archbishop Anlin said with emotion, “I understand. I will give up my position as Grand Archbishop of the Sacred Hall.”
She had no intention of betraying the Pope.
Today was the first time she had heeded the old school’s persuasion and helped them with some matters.
Because she wanted to see how His Holiness the Pope intended to handle this affair.
Now she had seen the result, and she felt both moved and disappointed.
Not because she had been exposed and lost her position as a leader of the state religion, but because Chen Changsheng’s handling was too harsh, too cold.
She said softly, “Is this the ruthlessness of a sage?”
“No. Some want me to become a warlord, some want me to become a hero, some want me to become a sage, some want me to become a saint.”
Chen Changsheng was silent for a moment, then said, “But in truth, I’m still that young Daoist who came to the capital for the Grand Examination.”
Archbishop Anlin asked earnestly, “If that’s the case, why put yourself through this?”
Chen Changsheng’s brows furrowed slightly, and his breath grew a bit heavier.
Only those closest to him could tell that his mood was very bad at this moment.
“Have you never considered one question? I never wanted to be the Pope in the first place.”
“I don’t know whose devilish idea this was. Maybe my uncle’s, maybe Grand Archbishop Meri’s, maybe my master’s?”
“They were the ones who made me become the Pope. Before that, they never asked if I was willing.”
“So everything I’ve done is what they wanted me to do.”
He paused for a moment, then continued, “But these things are not what I wanted to do.”
“If the Pope must be this kind of person, then perhaps I’m not fit to be the Pope.”
He looked at the bishops of the Sacred Office and said, “If you still have objections, let it end here.”
The Hall of Light fell into utter silence, so quiet that not even a crow’s caw could be heard.
Some clergy didn’t understand Chen Changsheng’s words.
Some thought they understood but dared not believe it.
The King of Linghai was stunned, Daoist Siyuan’s eyes went wide, and Hu Sanshier looked thoughtful.
Archbishop Anlin was somewhat bewildered, wondering if she had done something wrong. (To be continued.)