Chapter 56: Don’t You Want to Give It a Try?
“Master, back then you sent me to Lingyan Pavilion to read Lord Wang’s notes, saying they contained the secret to defying fate and changing destiny, but I didn’t see it.”
When Chen Changsheng spoke these words to Shang Xingzhou, the atmosphere in the Tian Shu Ling became somewhat strange.
This was a secret known to very few.
Even after the master and disciple turned against each other, this secret had never been leaked.
These words should have been spoken three years ago, but in Chen Changsheng’s mind, since all the conversations in the old temple at Xining Town—including those moments themselves—were merely means to an end, what point was there in making painful accusations about the past? Moreover, he had obtained a very important Heavenly Book Stele in Lingyan Pavilion, seen many secrets in Wang Zhice’s notes, gained many insights, which had brought significant help to his cultivation path and many warnings for his life—that was already enough.
He continued, “In those notes, I only saw two words: ‘eating people.’”
A look of reminiscence appeared on Wang Zhice’s face, tinged with emotion, even melancholy.
Those notes recorded what he had seen and heard in those years—the truest history surrounding the founding of the Great Zhou Dynasty.
The truest history was often the darkest.
The seemingly peaceful sound of reading from humble alleys concealed who knew how many screams from the flower boats on the Luo River.
The seemingly mundane life at court hid who knows how many glints of blades and flashes of swords.
Wang Zhice never mentioned the Hundred Herb Garden Incident, but occasional words had already revealed the cruelty of that night.
So-called prosperous eras could ultimately only fulfill one person’s wishes; the steps leading to the highest place were strewn with bloody corpses. That era and the centuries that followed were filled with fathers and sons killing each other, brothers killing each other, husbands and wives killing each other, rulers and subjects killing each other… so master and disciple killing each other was hardly an exaggeration.
Chen Changsheng was silent for a moment, then said, “I just never understood why you didn’t do it yourself.”
Three years ago, on that snowy night at the National Academy, he had discussed this very question with Shang Xingzhou.
He had already given his answer back then; bringing it up again now was merely to vent his emotions.
Shang Xingzhou’s mind and Dao method were nearly perfect; his only weakness was Chen Changsheng.
Because no matter what he did—even slaughtering every citizen in the capital—he could convince himself that he had a reason for it.
But when it came to Chen Changsheng, he could not convince himself.
The more this was the case, the more he disliked Chen Changsheng.
It had been this way since Xining Town, since that old temple, since many years ago.
As time passed, this feeling grew heavier, and he increasingly disliked the version of himself that disliked Chen Changsheng.
He didn’t want to see Chen Changsheng.
In the end, he even wished Chen Changsheng had never appeared in the world.
He didn’t want to do it himself, because that would only make his Dao heart even harder to pacify.
He wanted Chen Changsheng to die at someone else’s hands.
Three years ago at the National Academy, he had said that as long as Chen Changsheng didn’t return to the capital, he would not act again.
But later, he couldn’t resist the temptation.
Thus, Zhou Tong died, and so did Chu Su, and the Shepherd from the Great Western Continent.
Chen Changsheng didn’t die on the Snow Ridge, and he encountered danger again on Holy Maiden Peak.
“We cultivate the mind and will; among all things in the world, only the mind and will cannot deceive oneself.”
Chen Changsheng asked in confusion, “If I die at someone else’s hands, can you convince yourself that it has nothing to do with you?”
Shang Xingzhou looked at him without speaking.
Chen Changsheng finally said, “Please strike personally. At that final moment, you might be able to see your own heart clearly. Don’t you want to give it a try?”
…
…
I want to give it a try.
Back in the wind and rain of Xunyang City, facing Zhu Luo, Wang Po had said these words. In White Emperor City, facing an opponent he couldn’t defeat, Xuan Yuan Po had said them. Xu Yourong had said them, and Chen Changsheng had said them too.
Compared to Shang Xingzhou, they were all still young, with enough time to try, with room for mistakes. Perhaps for this reason, when facing certain crossroads that required choices, they would act more bravely and directly.
So, don’t you want to give it a try?
Shang Xingzhou quietly looked at Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong had indeed performed exceptionally well today, earning his admiration—and that child in the palace, whose silence was even more brilliantly striking.
But these juniors still underestimated the meticulousness and terrifying power, like magma, hidden behind his forbearance and silence.
Even if Wang Zhice were persuaded to stand aside, he was still confident he could control the situation in the capital.
He had no reason whatsoever to agree to Chen Changsheng’s request, but at that moment, he heard those words.
It was like that drop of nectar hanging on the stone wall’s vine—beautiful and pure, easily tempting the heart.
It reminded him of many, many years ago, when he was still a young Daoist.
In Luoyang City, there was a Changchun Temple, and in Changchun Temple, there were two young Daoists named Shang and Yin.
Back then, they had not yet parted ways to seek the Dao at the Detached Palace Annex and the National Academy.
Their master was naturally an extraordinary figure, yet in the end, he died silently.
It was a true era of chaos. Luoyang was besieged for a long time, the demon race covering the mountains and fields outside the city, the world filled with a stench of blood.
They left Luoyang, accompanied by a young man surnamed Tang.
On that journey, they witnessed many tragic scenes, which deeply influenced each of them.
Finally, at some place, he stopped and said to the twilight-covered mountains, “I still want to give it a try.”
He concealed his identity and served under the future Taizong Emperor, meeting many remarkable people.
Those people wore fine clothes and rode fine horses, while he continued to stand in the shadows, silent and low-key.
No matter how glorious things became later, he remained the same.
Until the demon race was destroyed, he could not relax for a single moment.
In the end, he grew accustomed to that life, even came to love it.
His Majesty needed someone like him to assist in the shadows, to become His Majesty.
Except for a very few, no one knew he was Shang Xingzhou, the orthodox heir of the state religion; they only thought he was the Daoist Ji, who could cure illnesses.
After he overthrew the rule of Empress Tianhai, ignoring the undercurrents in the court and the public, he still promoted Zhou Tong to a high position. Aside from a prior promise, it was also because he simply didn’t see anything wrong with what Zhou Tong did—he had been doing the same for centuries.
But occasionally, there were still some regrets.
No longer young.
Shang Xingzhou looked at Chen Changsheng, at his calm and resolute eyes, at his clear features, and thought—this is that kind of youth.
Hundreds of years had passed; now it was no longer the bleak years when Luoyang was besieged and people ate each other. No matter the outcome today, no matter if there was internal strife, humanity no longer had to fear returning to those terrifying times; people no longer had to struggle to survive.
Did that mean he no longer had to struggle so hard to live?
From now on, could he live more freely, more recklessly?
He quietly looked at Chen Changsheng and suddenly said, “Very well, let’s see if we can end this story.”
When the former emperor was gravely ill and Tianhai had no intention of returning power, he began writing this story.
The beginning of this story was a continent covered in white sand, where, with the help of that existence beyond the Star Sea, a fruit was born.
So naturally, this story had to end with the death of that fruit.
…
…
(Don’t misunderstand—look at me: the story of *Ze Tian Ji* won’t end.)
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