Chapter 34: The Merchant Takes Charge
There were many paths in the Heavenly Book Mound, but only one could lead directly to the summit: the divine path paved with white jade on the southern side.
Ascending the mound via the divine path was an event of great symbolic significance.
Only the Emperor, the Pope, and the Southern Saint were qualified to walk this path, representing supreme authority.
Many had attempted to force their way up the divine path before Xun Mei, but aside from Zhou Duofu, there seemed to be no other successful examples.
Wang Po’s attempt to storm the divine path was a fulfillment of a promise to an old friend, a provocation to the imperial court, and, above all, an act of vengeance against Emperor Taizong.
Xu Yourong stood deep within the woods of the Hundred Herbs Garden, gazing at the slightly raised grassy mound. She murmured softly, “You once said that Ji Daoren was Emperor Taizong’s most loyal subject, even a fanatical follower to the point of perversion. So how could he possibly allow such a thing to happen?”
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves and the tender green grass that had just emerged from the ground. The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress lay sleeping here, and no one could answer her question.
“To think I have to face such a twisted individual… it really is nerve-wracking.”
Xu Yourong’s expression was calm, showing none of the tension her words described. Only the faint trembling of her eyelashes betrayed her true feelings at that moment.
What she was about to do—or rather, the decision she had made—was too terrifying. One misstep, and millions of people could die in the most miserable way.
To make such a decision, or to convince the entire continent that she dared to make it, required an extraordinarily powerful will.
When willpower reaches its extreme, it naturally becomes ruthless. This is the path of the Supreme.
Xu Yourong’s brow furrowed slightly, making her look fragile and pitiable.
No one had ever seen her like this.
Not even when she was gravely wounded and near death in the Zhou Garden, not even Chen Changsheng, who was closest to her.
Only the smooth stone path on Moyu Cliff and the tree by the precipice had ever witnessed it.
The index fingers of her two hands lightly touched together in the breeze.
She looked at the point where her fingertips met and whispered to herself, “You can do this. You can manage it.”
With that seemingly fragile, slightly timid murmur, her eyelashes gradually stopped trembling.
She lifted her head and looked once more at the slightly raised grassy mound. Her gaze was now calm.
The ultimate calm was indifference.
Not even a grassy mound, nor a raging flood, could stir her concern.
“May the holy light be with you forever.”
Xu Yourong turned and walked out of the Hundred Herbs Garden.
As her skirt brushed past, a trail of wildflowers sprang up in the grass, then suddenly burst into golden flames, turning to nothingness.
…
…
From Xun Mei’s small hut to the foot of the divine path was not very far. When Chen Changsheng and Gou Hanshi had rushed over back then, it hadn’t taken them long.
But Wang Po walked for a very long time.
The iron blade had been drawn from its sheath at some unknown point, held firmly in his hand.
If anyone had witnessed this scene, they would have been shocked and even more bewildered.
That year, during his battle against the Iron Tree in the wind and snow, he had kept his blade sheathed for a long time, only drawing it at the very end to cleave heaven and earth apart.
Why had he drawn his iron blade so early today? Who was he preparing to strike?
Wang Po wasn’t aiming to strike a person.
The Heavenly Book Mound was eerily quiet today. Few cultivators were seen observing the steles, and even the stele attendants seemed to have vanished.
Even if they were present, none of them would be worthy of his blade.
He was cutting down the stray branches that blocked the path, the rotting bamboo fences, and the uneven bluestones worn by age and neglect.
With each swing of the iron blade, branches turned to sawdust, bamboo fences to powder, and bluestones to dust, all swept away by the wind, leaving the path smooth and renewed.
After he passed, the clear marks left by his blade on the earth and bluestones gradually faded, but the blade intent sank into the deeper spaces, concealing something.
Wang Po reached the foot of the divine path and looked toward the pavilion that had once stood there.
The world now knew that Divine General Han Qing had already broken through to the sacred realm that night.
No wonder Xun Mei, having just woken from his dream and at the peak of his power, still couldn’t get past him.
Who would come to stop him from storming the divine path today?
Wang Po did not walk toward the divine path. He stood still, waiting calmly for that person to arrive.
His iron blade was sheathed once more, but its momentum still spanned heaven and earth, steadily and slowly rising.
He was in no hurry, because the longer the time, the more perfect his blade’s momentum would become, until it was seamless, with no gaps left.
Perhaps for this reason, it wasn’t long before the person he was waiting for appeared.
A gentle breeze stirred the clear water in the shallow channel, creating countless fine ripples that formed intricate, indecipherable patterns.
The ripples seemed to hide the profound mysteries of heaven and earth, diluting Wang Po’s blade momentum significantly.
Shang Xingzhou appeared on the divine path. His Daoist sleeves fluttered lightly, his jet-black hair was combed flawlessly, and his bearing was strikingly heroic.
Wang Po said, “As expected, nothing new.”
He was not surprised by Shang Xingzhou’s appearance, and he doubted anyone else would be either.
In the current world, the only person capable of stopping him from storming the divine path was Shang Xingzhou.
Shang Xingzhou did not respond.
Compared to speaking, he cared more about actual results.
He looked at Wang Po, his eyes filled with admiration, as if gazing upon his most outstanding junior.
But that admiration ultimately turned into regret.
In his plans, Wang Po was to play an extremely important role in the upcoming northern campaign. He had even intended to entrust him with the task of breaching the Snow Old City.
It was a pity that such an excellent human powerhouse would die today.
With Shang Xingzhou’s arrival, a rain fell upon the sky above the Heavenly Book Mound.
It was not a spring rain, but a rain of arrows.
Accompanied by a dense hum, countless feathered arrows and crossbow bolts rained down like a torrential storm.
The arrows scraped violently against the air, leaving trails of fire, with faint holy light shimmering among them.
Wang Po did not turn around, but he had already sensed the arrival of the arrow rain.
He was somewhat surprised, and also somewhat moved.
He had not expected the Imperial Guard outside the Heavenly Book Mound to possess so many holy light arrows.
Clearly, the court had long anticipated his appearance at the Heavenly Book Mound. Such a quantity of holy light arrows was a terrifyingly targeted measure.
It turned out that three years ago, when he broke through to the sacred realm by the Luo River, the court had already begun preparing how to kill him.
Shang Xingzhou stood on the divine path, also within the range of this arrow rain, but he showed no intention of leaving. He simply watched Wang Po quietly.
He looked at him as if he were already a dead man.
Having cultivated Daoist arts for over a thousand years, he naturally had the means to deal with holy light arrows, far better than Wang Po.
And if he didn’t leave, Wang Po couldn’t leave either.
No matter how powerful Wang Po’s iron blade was, it was impossible for him to cut down the rain of arrows while simultaneously fending off Shang Xingzhou’s attack.
Just then, from a forest to the southwest of the Heavenly Book Mound, a sword light suddenly shot up.
That sword light was extremely pure.
Startled birds flew up, but before they could clear the treetops, another sword light cut them down.
That sword light was extremely dazzling.
Then, more and more sword lights rose from the forest.