Chapter 1120: Behold, All of You
(I recommend everyone to check out Black Sky Demon God’s new work, titled *Infected*, created at http://book.qq.com/book/1414o448. The chapter title is taken from the theme song of Qin Shi Huang, *The Earth Beneath My Feet*.)
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In recent days, the Southern envoy had come north under the guise of the Grand Imperial Examination. Xu Yourong led the Nanxi Zhai with an open display of force, stirring winds and clouds between the capital and Luoyang. Thunder rumbled across the court and the wilds. Chen Changsheng had remained silent throughout, sitting still in the stone chamber to comprehend the sword, until today, when he suddenly exerted force, riding the momentum to force Shang Xingzhou into agreeing to a battle with him.
The entire process could truly be described as exhausting every ounce of his wit and effort.
Of course, he wanted to win this battle, but more importantly, it was the battle itself that mattered.
Through this fight, he intended to push Shang Xingzhou to the edge of a cliff, into the most extreme circumstances.
He wanted Shang Xingzhou to truly feel the danger of defeat, to sense the strange gazes, to perceive the bleak prospect of everything turning to nothing.
Only then could Shang Xingzhou face himself, see the small figure hidden beneath the green Daoist robe, and confront the heart he had never truly examined.
What exactly was Shang Xingzhou thinking? How did he truly view everything related to Chen Changsheng?
The few words Chen Changsheng had spoken were his own view of Shang Xingzhou.
You refuse to admit your mistakes, but you’ve long known you were wrong. That’s why, over the years, you never tried to act yourself, only sending the Tianhai clan and the people from the Great Western Continent to kill me—because you never truly wanted to kill me, even if you yourself might not be aware of this fact.
This view actually held some truth.
Given Shang Xingzhou’s level of cultivation and his will as steadfast as an old pine, even if the Pope had left many constraints before his death, and even if Chen Changsheng had many helpers and was very cautious, if Shang Xingzhou truly wanted to kill Chen Changsheng, how could years have passed without any results? The behavior of the White Tiger Divine General was almost laughable.
This was the truth Chen Changsheng wanted Shang Xingzhou to see—his true intent.
Shang Xingzhou looked at Chen Changsheng without speaking, his gaze icy cold.
It was as if he wasn’t looking at a real person, a living being, but at some weeds in a basin or a sour fruit.
Were Chen Changsheng’s words true?
In those years at the old temple in Xining Town, it was Yu Ren who raised Chen Changsheng with thin porridge and small fish, and Yu Ren who educated him.
Shang Xingzhou had never been close to Chen Changsheng, rarely disciplining him.
Was it not because he had no feelings for Chen Changsheng, but because he feared developing feelings?
Over the years, the whole world knew he disliked Chen Changsheng, yet no one understood why.
Were those mockeries, contempt, and disdain not real? Was he just trying to keep his distance, so he could harden his heart?
But in the end, Chen Changsheng still became the shadow on his Dao heart.
How could that shadow be erased? How could it be filled?
Even killing Chen Changsheng wouldn’t work, because those things had already happened.
Or perhaps, as Chen Changsheng said.
Admit the mistake?
Several gazes fell on Shang Xingzhou’s face.
Shang Xingzhou looked at Chen Changsheng and laughed.
The smile carried undisguised mockery.
“You’re overthinking it.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the National Academy.
His green Daoist robe, soaked through with blood, looked like a lotus flower of ink swaying slowly in the wind.
Watching that figure grow distant, Chen Changsheng remained silent, saying nothing.
Until the end, no one conceded defeat, but everyone knew who had won and who had lost.
He had defeated his master, the most powerful person in the world.
He had gained not just victory in this battle, but also triumph in the spiritual struggle between master and disciple.
From any angle, this was an extraordinary achievement, the glory of a king.
Logically, at this moment, the ruins of Maple Grove Pavilion—no, the entire National Academy—should have been filled with joyful air.
But it wasn’t, because Chen Changsheng remained silent, his lips tightly pressed together, so hard they turned pale.
The closest to him was Xu Yourong.
Seeing his silence, the joy in her eyes gradually faded, replaced by a faint pity.
“I never thought you’d be so good at speaking,” she said with a smile, trying to comfort his mood.
Today, Chen Changsheng had said many things to Shang Xingzhou, his mind stirred, making his words somewhat sharp.
“That’s because you don’t chat with him much normally; otherwise, you’d know his specialty is roasting people,” Tang Thirty-Six said with great excitement, not mocking Chen Changsheng at all, his face full of shared pride.
Then, he turned and said impatiently, “Do I need to invite you?”
The other party didn’t understand his meaning.
Tang Thirty-Six said, “The fight’s over, so why are you still standing here? Hurry up and leave; I’m not planning to treat you to a meal.”
As the superintendent of the National Academy, he certainly had the authority to welcome or expel guests.
The problem was that his words were directed at Wang Zhice.
Even Emperor Taizong or Saintess Tianhai wouldn’t speak to Wang Zhice in such an impatient tone.
And no one would use the word “standing” for Wang Zhice.
Wang Zhice shook his head, turned, and walked out of the National Academy.
“Putting on that carefree act for whom? Still lost!” Tang Thirty-Six spat on the ground.
Wang Po walked up to Chen Changsheng, looked at his face, confirmed he was fine, and took his leave.
From start to finish, there was no conversation, no thanks—just that calm demeanor.
It was the same in Xunyang City last year, in Wenshui City the year before, and in the capital this year.
Chen Changsheng turned to Xu Yourong and said, “I won.”
Xu Yourong looked at him with admiration and said, “That’s remarkable.”
Chen Changsheng was silent for a moment, then said, “I didn’t cry.”
Xu Yourong reached out to wipe the dust from his face, somewhat pained, and said, “That’s also remarkable.”
Chen Changsheng looked into the distance.
Over there, the courtyard wall had collapsed.
The bright yellow imperial robe was very conspicuous in the gloomy weather.
Yu Ren stood there.
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In Hundred Flowers Lane, there was dead silence.
People were stunned speechless by the final outcome.
No one left, partly due to shock, and partly because the gate of the National Academy was still closed.
The Emperor and the Pope were inside talking.
After this battle, no one could stop these two brothers from meeting.
But half an hour had passed—what were they discussing?
The heavy gate of the National Academy slowly opened.
Chen Changsheng walked out.
The short sword was tied at his waist.
His hair was a bit messy.
He was covered in dust and blood.
His eyes were slightly red.
He looked very tired.
Even disheveled.
But no one dared to think of him that way.
Xu Yourong walked on his left.
Tang Thirty-Six was behind him.
Linghai Zhiwang bowed solemnly: “Greetings, Your Holiness the Pope.”
The priests of the Li Palace all bowed in salute.
At first, the voices were sparse, but gradually they grew dense and orderly.
More and more people knelt to the ground.
There were national religion cavalry and black-armored cavalry.
Court officials also knelt.
Over a dozen princes exchanged silent glances, then slowly knelt down.
Chen Changsheng walked out of the alley.
The crowd knelt one after another.
Like a tide.
Engulfing the capital.
Until it covered the entire continent.