Chapter 136: A Sword Rising from the Ground
When time stands still, all things come to a halt.
Even the hundreds of angels slowly descending within the pillar of light on the other side of the spatial crystal wall froze in place.
Light pierced through their wings, scattering into countless fine threads—a breathtakingly beautiful scene.
When it came to death, Chen Changsheng could be considered the person in this world who had contemplated it the most. That was because, before that night at the Mausoleum of Books, he had lived in the shadow of death every moment. Although he had later gained freedom, when the need arose, he could quickly return to that past state and make decisions with ease.
When the three thousand swords flew back from the night sky, about to pierce through his body, he truly believed he was already dead.
On a spiritual level, he had died, but on a material level, he was still alive.
Between life and death lay a very fine boundary line, and on that line existed a remarkably subtle state—one that could be understood as superposition, or as neither one nor the other.
Entering that state was not actually difficult. Perhaps every living being enters that state once at the moment of their end.
The problem was that once a life entered that state, it could never reverse back to a state of living; it could only move forward, into the endless abyss, or beyond the sea of stars.
Only under extremely exceptional circumstances would an exception occur—like tonight.
Those swords were all Chen Changsheng’s swords, connected to his mind and spirit, even symbiotic with him.
When Chen Changsheng entered that state, those swords naturally stopped.
Thus, he and the Wind and Rain Swords entered a relatively stable yet extremely sensitive realm, where even time temporarily halted.
No one knew whether, in the next moment, he would live or die.
The still world became a painting, or perhaps a curtain.
Suddenly, Chen Changsheng opened his eyes.
His eyes were so clean and bright, like a mirror reflecting every detail of the world with infinite richness.
On the cliff face in the abyss of demonic flames, dark as night, a verdant wild grass suddenly sprouted.
Time was no longer still. The world came back to life. Countless gasps rang out, then fell into utter silence.
People sensed that something had happened to Chen Changsheng.
Old Master Tang and Wang Zhice, among others, felt this more directly and accurately, for they had once had similar experiences.
The Black Robe’s expression turned extremely ugly.
They saw the power of rules within Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng had not fully comprehended these rules, nor had he managed to transcend them.
But these were the rules of life and death, belonging to the domain of time. Comprehending even one percent was enough.
Enough for what?
Chen Changsheng looked toward the night sky.
The three thousand swords turned with his gaze, howling through the air as they charged into that pillar of light.
The pillar of light was only a few feet in diameter. When the three thousand swords entered, it seemed somewhat crowded, like crucian carp swimming in a narrow river channel.
Battered by the pillar’s flow, the swords’ blades trembled incessantly, yet they did not stop. They struggled fiercely against the current, as if on the verge of transforming into dragons and soaring away.
Swords and light clashed continuously, spraying countless specks of light like magma, scattering across the night sky and making the Snow Old City brilliantly bright.
Seeing this scene, people finally confirmed their suspicions, too shocked to speak.
A look of envy appeared on the Demon Lord’s face.
Tang Thirty-Six, sitting in his wheelchair, excitedly slapped his leg and shouted joyfully, “Awesome! Awesome!”
Indeed, it was awesome.
Between the opening and closing of his eyes, Chen Changsheng had crossed that threshold and stepped into that landscape.
That landscape was the sacred domain.
Had there ever been a sacred domain expert as young as him?
How old was Chen Xuanba when he broke through into the sacred domain?
No one knew the exact answer, and no one cared about that question at the moment.
The first thing Chen Changsheng did upon stepping into the sacred domain was to try to sever that pillar of light coming from the Holy Light Continent. Could he succeed?
“You think this is enough? How naive! If it were possible, why do you think Wang Zhice has been standing still all this time?”
The Black Robe stared at Chen Changsheng and shouted.
Her voice had become extremely shrill, no longer as pleasant as before—perhaps reflecting her current mood.
But what she said seemed to be correct.
That pillar of light was far too powerful. The three thousand swords struggled forward within it, trembling more and more violently, as if they might fall like withered leaves at any moment.
Neither Old Master Tang, nor Wang Zhice, nor Wang Po, nor Xiao Zhang could help him.
The other end of this pillar of light was inside his body. To sever the pillar was to sever his connection with the Holy Light Continent.
In a sense, he was fighting himself.
Thus, of course, this could only be his battle alone.
Chen Changsheng ignored the Black Robe. Calmly and intently, he gazed at the pillar of light, his sight passing over the swords and landing on the mirror-like spatial crystal wall.
The light grew brighter. He squinted and raised his left hand.
On his wrist were five stone beads, each one a Mausoleum Stele.
Xu Yourong thought he intended to use the Mausoleum Steles to face the enemy and prepared to give him her five as well, but she realized he had no such intention.
The five Mausoleum Steles appeared in the demon hall, not forming any formation, nor isolating Chen Changsheng from the outside world. They seemed quite casual.
To be precise, the positions of four steles were random, but the position of the last one was clearly deliberate—right by his right hand.
This stele was very familiar to Wang Zhice, for it was the one he had originally placed in the Lingyan Pavilion.
He didn’t know what Chen Changsheng intended to do.
No one knew, not even Xu Yourong.
Zhi Zhi, sensing a summons in her sea of consciousness, walked to Chen Changsheng’s side, equally bewildered, not understanding what was happening.
After doing these things, Chen Changsheng’s right hand grasped the sword hilt.
No one knew what Chen Changsheng was preparing to do, nor did anyone sense anything. What was astonishing was that the archangel on the other side of the transparent light mirror, still billions of miles away from the Central Continent, seemed to sense intense danger. Its normally indifferent, expressionless face showed wariness as it retreated backward.
“Are you ready?”
No one knew who Chen Changsheng was asking.
From the Mausoleum Stele on his right, Luo Luo’s confused voice suddenly came: “Master? Is that you? What’s the matter?”
Chen Changsheng said, “Nothing. Just stay here.”
He drew the Stainless Sword and slashed toward the night sky.
Sword intent rose fiercely.
The three thousand swords perked up, howling again as they charged toward the end of the pillar of light, one after another, unceasing, as if forming a single great sword.
This sword was unimaginably massive, rising from the demon palace on the ground, reaching straight to the night sky, piercing heaven and earth!
Chen Changsheng intended to use this giant sword to sever that pillar of light!
That indifferent, condescending feeling of being watched once again settled over everyone.
They vaguely guessed that the deity had once again opened its eyes—though it might not have eyes at all.
It seemed that Chen Changsheng’s sword had already threatened the plan for the angelic legion’s descent.
An indescribable pressure came from a distant otherworld, penetrating the spatial crystal wall and landing upon that giant sword.
Harsh scraping and metallic bending sounds echoed through the night sky.
Chen Changsheng’s face turned pale, but his gaze grew even calmer.
Zhi Zhi stared blankly at him within the pillar of light, unsure of what she should do.
From that Mausoleum Stele came Luo Luo’s anxious voice: “Master! Master! Are you alright? Say something!”
The scraping and bending sounds gradually faded.
The giant sword still held firm against the descending pillar of light!
Chen Changsheng held on!
What a powerful sword!
Back then on the snowy plain, Su Li’s earth-shattering sword strike was no more than this level!
Chen Changsheng’s talent in the sword way was exceptionally high, enough to be called a grandmaster, but he was still young, having just broken into the sacred domain. How could he unleash such a mighty sword?
No one could figure it out.
Wang Zhice suddenly recalled a very ancient Daoist classic and fell into thought.
He looked at Zhi Zhi, who stood outside the pillar of light, bewildered, anxious, and at a loss, and silently thought, “This is the Azure Dragon.”
Then he looked at that black Mausoleum Stele and thought to himself, “This is the White Tiger.”
Finally, he looked at Xu Yourong and thought, “This is the Vermilion Bird.”
From her position, she was quite far from Chen Changsheng, showing nothing particularly special.
“Left Azure Dragon, right White Tiger, Vermilion Bird… in the heart.”
Wang Zhice’s eyes brightened slightly, and he remarked with emotion, “Impressive.”
Even he felt admiration for this sword, so it was naturally truly formidable to the extreme.
But this sword could still only form a stalemate with that pillar of light from the Holy Light Continent.
Two unimaginably powerful auras, separated by billions of miles, were battling across space.
“You can’t succeed! That is formless light—how can you cut it off?!”
The Black Robe stared at Chen Changsheng’s face and shrieked, “Unless your true body can go billions of miles away and sever the source of that light!”
Sometimes, what is called a self-fulfilling prophecy is merely the process of deduction and calculation being hidden.
The Black Robe was best at deduction and calculation.
When she spoke those words, it was highly likely that her subconscious feared that very thing happening, though she herself did not realize it.
And so, that very thing truly happened.
A sword light streaked across the night sky.
…
…
(When I began writing Ze Tian Ji three years ago, I hadn’t pre-imagined the scene of Left Azure Dragon and Right White Tiger. It was simply that I wrote Luo Luo first, then Zhi Zhi, and this possibility naturally emerged. Then, over two years ago, a reader pointed it out first, and I’ve been thinking ever since about when to present this grand tableau before everyone’s eyes. But after much deliberation, I ultimately chose the smallest stage and the most restrained display—just a shared laugh, since it’s not the main storyline.)