Chapter 47: The Silent Spring
The violent wind and snow gradually subsided.
Without wind, the snow could stick.
Thus, more and more names on the stone wall were covered by the accumulating snow.
The Heavenly Dao Academy was dead silent.
No one knew how long had passed before Zhuang Zhihuan finally emerged from behind the hundreds of snowmen.
This was the first time he truly stood before the teachers and students since the national religion cavalry had surrounded the academy.
Because the one speaking was his most proud disciple—Guan Bai.
And also because many had already turned into snowmen, leaving him no place to hide.
His gaze toward Guan Bai was very cold.
“Why?”
“Because you were wrong.”
“According to news from the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, it should have been the Holy Maiden who arranged your return to the capital.”
“His Majesty wrote me a letter in advance.”
“You’ve been watching all along?”
“Yes, I needed to confirm.”
“Confirm that I was wrong?”
Looking at his mentor, Guan Bai’s eyes held a complex mix of emotions. “Correct. Because no one has the right to use others’ lives to satisfy their own desires.”
Zhuang Zhihuan was silent for a long time before saying, “So… it was just confirmation.”
Guan Bai’s gaze grew much calmer. “Because at the very beginning, I didn’t believe you were that kind of person.”
Zhuang Zhihuan understood everything now. He said softly, “It seems His Holiness the Pope truly values you. Just to let you watch a play, he put on such a grand spectacle.”
Guan Bai replied, “His Majesty is merciful and didn’t want to see the Heavenly Dao Academy reduced to ashes because of your ambition. That’s why he showed me such patience.”
“Ambition…”
Zhuang Zhihuan gazed into the distance through the wind and snow—whether toward Wenshui or the homeland he hadn’t returned to in a long time—and repeated the word.
Guan Bai wanted to know why he sighed.
No one knew how long passed before Zhuang Zhihuan withdrew his gaze and looked at him. “Yes, I have ambition, and it’s great. Because I possess the ability to match it. My cultivation realm is high, my power is strong, and I am still young. So why shouldn’t I pursue it?”
Guan Bai said solemnly, “You once taught me: if the Great Way can be taken directly, why seek it through detours?”
Zhuang Zhihuan said calmly, “Senior Brother Mao treated me very well, and I have ties with the Tang family’s main branch. In many people’s eyes, if I stood on the Pope’s side, I could still get what I wanted—turn my ambition into a real wildfire, burning beautifully.”
Guan Bai said, “That is precisely what I don’t understand.”
Zhuang Zhihuan asked, “Have you also forgotten how Huan Yu died?”
Years ago, Chen Changsheng brought Su Li back from the snowy plains, traveling ten thousand li south, passing through Xunyang City on the way to the capital.
That night, under immense mental pressure, Zhuang Huanyu chose to fall on his sword beside a well.
That courtyard still stood in a secluded corner of the Heavenly Dao Academy, and that well remained, though no one had entered it for years.
Many had forgotten the events in the Garden of Zhou back then, forgotten that after Guan Bai, the academy once had another exceptionally talented young man.
Today’s heavy snow had frozen the ground around the well into several cracks, broken and beyond repair.
Those memories had also been unearthed from the cold depths.
Zhuang Zhihuan naturally hadn’t forgotten this matter, and neither had Guan Bai.
Back during the academy tournament, when he challenged Chen Changsheng, it was for this very reason.
He felt some sorrow. “You still can’t let this go?”
Whether from Tang Thirty-Six’s side or Dean Mao’s side, Zhuang Zhihuan should have been someone Chen Changsheng could trust.
Yet he had chosen the other side—was it because of this?
Zhuang Zhihuan shook his head. “Huan Yu died because of his own weak will, not because of His Holiness the Pope.”
Guan Bai didn’t understand. “Then why is it like this?”
Zhuang Zhihuan looked at him calmly. “I truly don’t hate His Holiness the Pope. The problem is, who would believe that?”
Guan Bai was silent.
Indeed, even if the Pope himself believed it, would the King of Linghai believe it? Would Priest Siyuan believe it? Would the Holy Maiden believe it?
“Since I can’t take that path, I have no choice but to burn my ambition in another way.”
Zhuang Zhihuan placed his hand on his chest. “Otherwise, this place will never be at peace.”
Guan Bai urged, “But now that things have failed, why not give up?”
“Because you’ve seen my true face, you want me to give up? Who do you think you are?”
Zhuang Zhihuan said with a faint sneer. “You are a student I taught. What right do you have to judge whether I am right or wrong? What right do you have to demand I give up?”
Guan Bai was quiet for a moment before saying, “I am now speaking to you as the Archbishop of Yinghua Hall.”
At these words, the Heavenly Dao Academy erupted in uproar. The teachers and students were utterly shocked.
The previous Archbishop of Yinghua Hall had been the academy’s old dean, Mao Qiuyu.
They had assumed that after Dean Mao ascended to the sacred realm, Dean Zhuang Zhihuan would undoubtedly become the Archbishop of Yinghua Hall.
But unexpectedly, very accurate news from the Li Palace indicated that the Pope had no such intention.
The academy’s teachers and students had felt lost and then angered. Today’s situation was largely related to this matter.
Yet the truth was beyond everyone’s expectations.
Senior Brother Guan Bai would succeed as Archbishop of Yinghua Hall?
The Li Palace wasn’t suppressing the Heavenly Dao Academy?
Could it be… that Dean Mao hadn’t been forced away by His Holiness the Pope?
What should they do next?
Zhuang Zhihuan had taught at the academy for many years and indeed enjoyed great prestige.
But in the hearts of the younger students, Senior Brother Guan Bai was their greatest pride, a true role model—both in cultivation and in virtue.
The wind and snow had long ceased. Spring’s warmth returned to the earth, but the snow was slow to melt. The students who had turned into snowmen gradually regained their ability to move.
They didn’t know what to do, but they found they could no longer raise their weapons.
…
…
A contingent of national religion cavalry stood before the Heavenly Book Mausoleum.
A contingent stood at the Religious Affairs Office.
A contingent stood at the Heavenly Dao Academy.
But the Li Palace’s most powerful force was elsewhere.
A faint snow drifting from somewhere made the air in Taiping Lane slightly cold, much like the tense situation now.
Priest Siyuan held his left hand across his chest, fingers slightly curled, as if playing with walnuts.
In his hand was actually a national religion treasure—the Celestial Seal.
Hu Sanshi stood beside him, half a step behind, head slightly lowered, hands tucked into his sleeves, looking like a low-key shopkeeper.
No one knew that in his left hand he held the Falling Star Stone, and in his right, an ordinary-looking short blade.
Likewise, no one knew whether the sacred power of the Falling Star Stone was greater or the short blade more fearsome.
Behind these two national religion giants were all their people, a dark, oppressive crowd.
Occasionally, a few striking red robes flashed through the black mass, adding to the killing aura.
Two hundred and seventeen Star Gathering realm bishops and deacons.
Sixteen terrifyingly powerful Red Bishops.
On Taiping Lane.
They surrounded the Prince Xiang’s Mansion.
From the other ten-plus prince mansions and the Tianhai Estate came no sound at all—dead silence.
Such a gathering of cultivation masters—even the former Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion, or the Great Zhou court itself, would struggle to assemble.
This was the power of the Li Palace. Usually hidden and unseen, but when it emerged, all things in heaven and earth must fall silent for a moment in respect.