Chapter 55: A Yellow River Carp Sinking Silently in the Night
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The cold wind howled fiercely, and light snow drifted gently.
Wu Daozi sat cross-legged on the icy ground, his face twisted with resentment, his body covered in blood, cursing nonstop at the sky.
But he dared not make any move, nor even lower his head, because the chill at his neck grew more intense.
Not because snowflakes had fallen into his collar.
It was because An Hua stood behind him, staring at his neck, a sharp dagger clutched in her hand.
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Wang Zhice stared into Chen Changsheng’s eyes, raising an eyebrow slightly, his gaze turning razor-sharp.
Seeing Chen Changsheng appear at the Mausoleum of Heavenly Books, he knew Wu Daozi had failed.
He didn’t care much, thinking that given Wu Daozi’s seniority and fame, the Li Palace might imprison him, but they probably wouldn’t humiliate him.
What he never expected was that Chen Changsheng would use Wu Daozi’s life to threaten him.
It was easy to imagine that Wu Daozi’s current situation was extremely dire.
Wang Zhice found this feeling unfamiliar.
It had been many years since anyone dared to scheme against him.
Whether with good intentions or bad.
Back then, Shang Xingzhou had visited the mansions of the famous ministers in the Lingyan Pavilion, but he had never harbored such thoughts toward Wang Zhice.
Otherwise, history might have taken a completely different turn.
Let alone threatening him.
He gazed quietly at Chen Changsheng, saying nothing.
He was the most renowned scholar in a thousand years, but he was absolutely not a weak, bookish intellectual, nor could he be described as frail.
In those days, he led the allied forces of humans and demons, slaughtering their way from Tianliang Prefecture to the foot of Snow Old City, leaving rivers of blood and fields of corpses in their wake.
When it came to killing, everyone present at the Mausoleum of Heavenly Books today combined hadn’t killed as many as he had.
His eyes seemed like an abyss, yet they blazed with raging flames.
But Chen Changsheng showed no fear, meeting his gaze calmly, without retracting his words.
A soft sound rang out, and residual snow swirled.
Xu Yourong’s right hand gently rested on the hilt of her Zhai Sword, her pure white wings slowly fluttering.
Gou Hanshi and the others, along with the three elders of Lishan Sword Hall, said nothing, directly drawing their swords, ready to charge.
Wang Po no longer crossed his arms; his left hand gripped the scabbard, ready to draw his blade at any moment.
If the iron sword that had once severed the Luo River was drawn again, would the river outside the Mausoleum of Heavenly Books still flow?
The elders of a few southern sects, such as Cijian Temple and Sanyang Sect, struggled for a moment before raising their weapons once more.
The faces of the imperial side turned grim.
Was this a case of drawing blades at the slightest disagreement?
They were facing Wang Zhice, after all!
This was Wang Po’s way of the blade.
The way of Lishan’s sword.
And also the way Chen Changsheng cultivated.
It was called Straightness.
If Wang Zhice didn’t agree to Chen Changsheng’s proposal, then Wu Daozi would die.
It was that simple, that unyielding.
Several princes of the Chen clan instinctively looked toward the Prince of Xiang.
As the strongest member of the imperial family, his stance was crucial, enough to sway the direction of the court and the military.
Prince Chenliu had also fallen into the hands of the Li Palace by now.
If the two sides truly fell out, could Prince Chenliu survive?
Yet when people looked over, they realized the Prince of Xiang had closed his eyes again at some point.
Was this “out of sight, out of mind,” or was he pondering how to choose if the Li Palace threatened him with his son’s life?
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“Hundreds of years from now, when you look back on the past, you’ll find that today you began to become the kind of person you once despised most…”
Wang Zhice’s gaze returned to calm as he said to Chen Changsheng, “You may feel a regret beyond imagination.”
Chen Changsheng recalled those conversations with Tang Thirty-Six.
Those talks had taken place atop the great banyan tree, by the lake, on the banks of the Wen River.
The setting sun fell on the surface, cut into thousands of golden leaves, rich and somewhat cloying.
The fat carp, having eaten too much, slowly sank toward the rotting mud at the bottom.
“I won’t become someone like you.”
He said to Wang Zhice.
Wang Zhice asked, “Why?”
Chen Changsheng replied, “Because I don’t want to become someone like you.”
Because of the “because” and “so,” there was no inherent logical connection, and naturally, no reasoning.
Wang Zhice shook his head and said, “That’s an unreasonable statement.”
Chen Changsheng looked at him seriously and asked, “Have you ever reasoned with me?”
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The grass by the lake was withered and yellow, with no green leaves yet sprouting.
The scraps of paper scattered on it were blown everywhere by the wind.
The teachers and students had hurriedly left, leaving some mess behind.
Now, the National Teaching Academy was as desolate as the Li Palace at this moment.
It was like returning to the past twenty-plus years, like a graveyard.
Perfectly suited for the battle that would follow.
I believe that no matter who died in the end, they wouldn’t mind being buried here.
Whether teacher or student, both had once been deans of this place, and both would leave an indelible mark on the history of the National Teaching Academy.
Tang Thirty-Six stood by the lake, thinking about these random things.
In early spring, the lake water had already thawed, but due to today’s sudden drop in temperature, a thin layer of ice had re-formed on the surface.
The fish had sunk to the deepest part of the water, where, though surrounded by rotting mud, it was warmer.
Su Moyu confirmed that all the teachers and students had evacuated and came to the lakeside.
He asked worriedly, “Are you sure he can succeed?”
“I don’t know.”
Tang Thirty-Six looked at the lake’s surface and said, “But I’m sure he won’t be happy.”
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Wang Zhice said nothing more.
Because he couldn’t answer Chen Changsheng’s question.
So it could also be understood that he couldn’t out-argue Chen Changsheng.
He had thoroughly read the Daoist canon, was immensely learned, possessed unparalleled wisdom, and was an eloquent debater, yet today, facing Chen Changsheng, he was left speechless time and again.
Because Chen Changsheng wasn’t debating with him or reasoning with him.
Everything he said was the truth.
With the facts in hand, he had the moral high ground.
To use Tang Thirty-Six’s assessment, he was a person who lived very purely.
Xu Yourong’s description was simpler and more accurate.
—Chen Changsheng was a true person.
That was why she liked him.
When Wang Zhice fell silent, she raised her right hand.
The sword aura slightly receded, and the chilling intent returned to the forest.
The Nanxi Zhai sword formation dispersed.
Shang Xingzhou appeared before the crowd.
Before Chen Changsheng’s eyes.