Chapter 1114: Everywhere
You could catch fish in the lake water because there were fish inside, but there were no swords in the lake water.
Yet Chen Changsheng didn’t fish for them—he simply took them directly.
This was an even more concise and forceful action, indicating that he had known exactly where the sword was beforehand.
Like a magician performing a trick, he pulled a sword from the lake water.
Then he thrust it toward Shang Xingzhou.
Water droplets scattered along the blade as the sword light rose, shining through from the inside out with perfect clarity.
The lakeshore brightened, and those water droplets resembled silver trees, or perhaps stars.
Over a dozen streaks of starlight flared up, following the celestial lines of the night sky, and his figure suddenly blurred.
Shang Xingzhou retreated along the stars, instantly arriving over ten zhang away.
With a soft *chi* sound, a slit appeared in his collar.
A trickle of blood seeped out, as if a plum blossom had been painted in ink on his green Daoist robe.
“Master, admit defeat,” Chen Changsheng said to Shang Xingzhou.
The lake water dripped from the tip of his sword onto the rocks, making a *di-da* sound, as if urging him on.
Shang Xingzhou did not reply. He advanced calmly, once again arriving before Chen Changsheng.
He gripped his sword with both hands and raised it above his head.
His bare arms gleamed under the sunlight, like true sculptures, perfectly displaying their strength.
Still, there was no sword technique, no profound intent—just the simplest downward slash.
With a *ca* sound, the air and the sword blade rubbed violently, producing a dazzling burst of flame.
A scorching, violent aura radiated from Shang Xingzhou’s body and from the sun itself.
The bloodstains on his green Daoist robe instantly evaporated into green smoke.
The water stains on Chen Changsheng’s sword also turned to smoke and vanished without a trace.
A clear, beautiful sword light rose again, but this time it wasn’t aimed at Shang Xingzhou.
Chen Changsheng knew that Shang Xingzhou would not respond to his sword, so no matter how fast his blade was, it was meaningless.
He could only withdraw his sword.
*Dang!*
The two swords met once more.
Thunder rolled from the lakeshore, crossing the courtyard wall and echoing through the capital.
A torrential rain burst forth again, walls collapsed, trees were uprooted, a fierce wind howled, the shore crumbled, rocks scattered, and lake water flooded everywhere.
Over a dozen ponds, large and small, appeared on the grass.
Shang Xingzhou and Chen Changsheng vanished.
They reappeared before the library behind the grass.
The stone steps leading up to the library were covered in cobwebs, slightly sunken.
Chen Changsheng lay within them, bracing his hands on the ground, preparing to stand.
The sword he had taken from the lake water flew away again.
His clumsy sword hadn’t broken, but it hadn’t been able to withstand Shang Xingzhou’s domineering blade either.
Remnant wind brushed against the green Daoist robe, making a *hua-hua* sound, and several more slits appeared on it.
Shang Xingzhou walked toward the library.
Chen Changsheng didn’t turn his head. His right hand landed on a broken step, then pulled outward.
Amid the grinding sound of metal against rubble, a sword appeared in his hand.
His movements seemed especially natural, as if he had long prepared for this and practiced it countless times.
No matter how unbelievable the scene, when it appeared often enough, it was hard to be surprised.
Shang Xingzhou’s expression showed no change.
Chen Changsheng stood up, looked at him seriously, and said, “Master, admit defeat.”
Shang Xingzhou still said nothing. Silently, he stepped forward, gripped his Daoist sword with both hands, and swung it down.
Sunlight shone on the sword blade and his bare arms.
The patterns on the blade and the lines of his muscles were so clear.
The breath of life and the taste of death were equally strong, like strong liquor, intoxicating or terrifying.
With a thunderous *hong* sound, a great cloud of dust rose.
A deep trench appeared before the library.
The dark, shiny floorboards kept lifting up, then splitting apart.
Among the collapsed bookshelves, old books flew everywhere.
He had once watched the stars here night after night.
Luo Luo had also accompanied him here for many nights.
But his master had spent even more time here than he had.
The window shattered.
Chen Changsheng landed in the fountain of the front courtyard, drenched through.
The holy lion statue’s mouth bared fangs, also spraying water.
A finger-thick stream of water fell onto his head, making the scene look somewhat comical.
This place was already close to the courtyard gate, and he could hear the tense breaths and startled cries from Hundred Flowers Lane.
The people in Hundred Flowers Lane had heard the sound of him landing in the fountain.
Experts like Wang Po, the Xiang King, the Zhongshan King, and the Linghai King could even roughly “see” the scene in the National Academy with just their ears.
The fountain dimmed slightly.
A tall figure blocked the sky.
Shang Xingzhou gave Chen Changsheng no chance to catch his breath, appearing once again.
Several dozen zhang away, Wang Zhice and Tang Thirty-Six also appeared on the grass.
Yu Ren should still be in the Hundred Herbs Garden.
Xu Yourong appeared at the edge of the forest on the other side, her pure white wings gently fluttering.
Where was the Little Black Dragon now?
“I’m curious,” Wang Zhice said, watching Chen Changsheng stand up from the fountain. “Is there still a sword here? Where could it be hidden?”
The holy lion statue was majestic, the fountain was large, but the pool was shallow.
The instructors and students of the National Academy passed by constantly; it would be hard not to notice a sword inside.
Tang Thirty-Six didn’t speak. Chen Changsheng answered with action.
He stood on tiptoe, reached his hand into the stone lion’s mouth, water splashing, and pulled out a sword from inside.
Seeing this, Xu Yourong thought of something, felt a bit disgusted, and covered her mouth.
Wang Zhice sighed in admiration, “Even that works?”
Tang Thirty-Six raised an eyebrow and said, “Why not?”
Wang Zhice sighed, “I thought there was just that one sword.”
Tang Thirty-Six said, “Wrong. I’ve hidden many swords here.”
Wang Zhice asked, “How many swords are there exactly?”
“Everywhere,” Tang Thirty-Six said, spreading his arms and closing his eyes, utterly entranced. “As long as he’s in the National Academy, he won’t lose.”
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The fountain suddenly stopped. The stone lion’s tail broke off, the break perfectly smooth.
Shang Xingzhou and Chen Changsheng’s swords met again.
Thunder sounded once more.
But this time, it lasted a long time, never stopping.
The National Academy was filled with the ringing of swords, occasionally punctuated by terrifying roars.
The figures of the master and disciple were nowhere to be seen.
From time to time, a sword would fly out of the forest, or out of the library, slanting as it stuck into the grass or beside a broken wall, trembling slightly.
During this time, no one knew how many swords Chen Changsheng had found, only for Shang Xingzhou to knock them away again.
Suddenly, the sword ringing stopped.
The National Academy became exceptionally quiet.
The quietest place was a building on the western side.
Judging by its architectural style, it should have been a scripture hall for preaching, but for some reason, its walls were painted vermilion, making it especially conspicuous.
Two rows of maple trees were planted around the building. Perhaps due to some formation, they remained a shivering red regardless of the season.
The green Daoist robe was covered in slits, dense and numerous, still carrying residual sword intent.
Blood kept seeping out from within, looking quite terrifying.
Shang Xingzhou had suffered many wounds.
Chen Changsheng’s injuries were even worse. His face was pale, his body covered in blood, and the hands hanging at his sides trembled slightly.
“Do you still have a sword?” Shang Xingzhou asked.
Chen Changsheng took a short sword from a flowerpot beside him and said, “This is the last one.”
...
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(Guess what this building is called.)
(Thirty-Seven Chinese)