Chapter 1111: A Gentleman Hides His Talents, Biding His Time
The slightly chilly wind stirred the withered leaves on the trees, and the forest was utterly silent.
Bark, wood shavings, and snowflakes drifted down slowly.
Only the lingering sword intent remained, refusing to dissipate in the cold wind.
Like the faint smell of gunpowder after firecrackers have fallen silent, it hinted at what had just transpired.
Just when it seemed Chen Changsheng was about to die, the battle had taken a dramatic turn, even showing signs of reversal.
Everything was because of the sword in his hand.
He gazed calmly at Shang Xingzhou, saying nothing. This wasn’t unease—it was confidence.
With a sword in hand, what was there to fear?
As Su Li’s heir, Chen Changsheng’s talent in the sword dao was astonishing, enough to shock the world.
Years ago, wielding multiple swords, he had defeated powerful foes in succession and even stormed the Northern Military Command’s barracks alone, stunning countless onlookers.
Later, he learned the art of sword fusion at the Holy Maiden Peak, grasped the true meaning of the sword dao at Li Mountain, and single-handedly set up the Nanxi Zhai sword formation in White Emperor City—defeating the Demon Lord first, then saving the White Emperor. His sword cultivation had finally reached its peak, earning him worldwide recognition as a sword master.
Though he was still young, and by common sense, the term “master” seemed hard to associate with him.
His strongest techniques were the Wind and Rain Swords.
Shang Xingzhou had been prepared. From the start of the battle, he used a hidden trump card he’d kept for years to seize all of Chen Changsheng’s swords, beating him mercilessly in the Zhou Garden until he had no chance to fight back.
Until now, when a sword appeared in Chen Changsheng’s hand.
Even a sword master couldn’t just pick up any random sword and wreak havoc.
This sword was clearly extraordinary—at the very least, it could resonate with his will.
Shang Xingzhou’s gaze shifted downward, landing on the sword.
That sword had endured who knows how many years of wind and rain, hidden inside that tree for who knows how long. It had no aura at all, like an ordinary iron rod.
If not for Chen Changsheng breaking the tree, no one would have ever sensed its existence.
Today, Chen Changsheng pulled it from the tree hollow.
The dust and grime on the blade’s surface were all gone. It was bright as polished, its edge sharp and exposed, its sword intent chilling.
Like a pearl long covered in dust, or a phoenix silent for years, it finally blazed with light and stunned the world with a single cry.
Shang Xingzhou raised an eyebrow slightly.
This sword was extremely ancient. Most likely, it came from the Sword Pool.
Yet everyone knew that the famous swords from past eras that Chen Changsheng had brought out of the Zhou Garden were all inside the Sheathed Sword Scabbard.
That scabbard was currently in his sleeve.
So where did this sword come from?
Could it be that Chen Changsheng had foreseen that he could control the Sheathed Sword, turned the tables, and prepared in advance by hiding a sword in this big tree, aiming to catch him off guard?
No. Judging by Chen Changsheng’s reaction, he hadn’t known there was a sword in that tree either.
From the moss still clinging to the sword’s guard, it had been hidden in the tree for at least a few years.
Not even Chen Changsheng, let alone Black Robe and Wang Zhice working together with Xu Yourong using the Fate Star Disk to deduce a hundred times, could have predicted today’s situation years in advance.
Moreover, if Chen Changsheng had foreseen his methods, he would have had far better ways to respond—he wouldn’t have been pushed to such extremes.
Could this sword not be from the Zhou Garden’s Sword Pool, but rather hidden in the tree by some instructor or student from the old National Academy?
Thinking that the one who hid the sword might have been one of his own followers from years past, Shang Xingzhou’s mood grew complicated.
That sword had lain hidden in the tree hollow for years without being discovered, yet today, Chen Changsheng reached in and pulled it out… at the very moment he needed a sword most.
Was this coincidence? Or what they called fate? Or perhaps a hint from destiny?
…
…
By the lake of the National Academy and the Hundred Herb Garden beyond the wall, it was very quiet.
Xu Yourong set down her paulownia bow.
Yu Ren stood by the stone table, leaning on his cane.
Wang Zhice withdrew his finger.
They stared at the scene deep in the forest, silent, their expressions varied.
It had all happened very quickly, but they roughly understood the truth.
In the Zhou Garden, for some unknown reason, Chen Changsheng had lost all his swords, leaving him passive and in grave danger.
At the most critical moment, Chen Changsheng pulled a sword from the broken tree, changing the entire battle.
But… why was there a sword in that tree?
Tang Thirty-Six could move now, but he didn’t.
Because Chen Changsheng was no longer in danger, and also because he felt a strange sensation.
He felt like this matter somehow involved him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember why.
…
…
In Hundred Flower Lane, that dense clatter of swords was also heard.
The argument sparked by Tang Thirty-Six barging into the National Academy had subsided, and the confrontation and potential conflict had vanished.
People stared in shock and tension toward the academy.
Wang Po opened his eyes and looked toward the National Academy, surprised and gratified.
But the Prince of Xiang closed his eyes, and in that brief moment, seemed to have aged several years.
…
…
Shang Xingzhou looked at Chen Changsheng and asked, “Did you know there was a sword here?”
Chen Changsheng said, “No.”
Looking at the sword in his hand, he naturally felt a sense of familiarity, even closeness.
Like a classmate, a comrade-in-arms, or at least a fellow traveler.
And so he understood the sword’s origin.
This sword had once been part of the Sword Pool, had once fought alongside him.
Back then, ten thousand swords were like dragons, and it was a single dragon scale.
But it had been years since they last met.
So you were here.
And why were you here?
Suddenly, laughter rang out from the lakeside.
“Hahaha!”
The laughter was exceptionally joyful, filled with a sense of utter relief and, more importantly, an infuriating smugness.
“It was me! In the end, it had to be me!”
Tang Thirty-Six shouted repeatedly, his face brimming with arrogance.
Wang Zhice was stunned, wondering what madness had seized this young man.
Tang Thirty-Six yelled at the whole world.
“I hid this sword here back then!”
Chen Changsheng paused for a moment, then finally remembered that old incident, and couldn’t help but laugh too.
…
…
(For details, see Volume 3, Chapter 29: The Story of the Naughty Kids and the Sword. For me, these fun moments are one of the main sources of happiness in writing. Today’s chapter title naturally brings to mind Chao Xiaoshu, then Longqing, then Ning Que, and that remarkable author—everything I write is so enjoyable. Today is New Year’s Eve, and I’m still writing. It feels great. I wish everyone a happy Spring Festival, drink in moderation, take care of your health, and happiness for your whole family. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be on New Year’s break. I’ll be back to see you all on the eleventh day of the lunar new year. I’ll strive to write this part quickly and powerfully.)