Chapter 126: Mutation
The dense wind and snow fell silently, and the area around the abandoned well was completely quiet. The trees at North New Bridge had shed all their leaves, and the branches, bearing the snow, stood like sentinels holding spears. The Saintess, with her hands behind her back, gazed toward the direction of the National Academy. After a moment of silence, she said, "The Grand Court Exam is about to begin. What are your thoughts?"
"His Holiness the Pope, following your wishes, has brought Lady Luoluo into the academy, but has made no further statements."
Mo Yu looked at the Empress's profile and said softly, "In my opinion, the simplest method would be to just kill Chen Changsheng. Then there wouldn't be so many troubles."
The uproar caused by the National Academy had quickly subsided after the Saintess made her stance known. But Mo Yu believed the Empress wasn't using this matter to display her tolerance and magnanimity; rather, she was waiting for all those hiding behind the National Academy to step forward. The Empress understood everything in the world clearly. Coming to ask her now was likely just to gauge her attitude, so her attitude had to be resolute enough.
Contrary to her expectations, the Empress showed no sign of appreciation for her firm, even ruthless, stance. Instead, the corners of her lips curled slightly, revealing a somewhat mocking smile. She said, "How boring would that be? Besides, if you kill him, how will you sleep soundly? You must know that the scent on pillows and bedding will eventually fade."
Hearing this, Mo Yu was flustered, thinking, how could she explain this matter?
The Empress didn't give her a chance to explain. She turned to look at her and said with a half-smile, "That night at the Ivy Banquet, was it you who locked him in the Tung Palace?"
Mo Yu suddenly felt that today's snow was bone-chillingly cold. She dared not hesitate for a moment and replied, "Yes."
The Empress didn't look at the abandoned well again. She said, "That's a good place."
Mo Yu dared not speak further. She bowed respectfully and humbly, supporting the Empress's hand as they walked toward the palace.
Locking Chen Changsheng in the Tung Palace that night at the Ivy Banquet was something she did at the request of a certain high-ranking figure. As for how Chen Changsheng escaped, whether he truly entered the Cold Pool's depths and encountered that forbidden existence, Mo Yu didn't know and dared not find out. Regardless, it was her fault.
The Empress didn't say whether she was satisfied or dissatisfied with her arrangements, but since she brought it up, it was a warning.
The entire Zhou dynasty knew that Mo Yu was the second most powerful woman in the world, possessing unimaginable wealth and overwhelming authority. When she occasionally felt inspired and dabbed red makeup between her brows, she could revive trends that had lain dormant for centuries. But she herself knew very well that all of this came from the Empress's bestowal or consent.
Once the Empress began to doubt her, she would lose everything and die without a burial place.
Today's wind and snow were truly bitterly cold. As she supported the Empress, her knuckles turned white, and her lips were pale, devoid of any color.
Chen Changsheng woke up on the bed in the National Academy.
His face was deathly pale, and his lips were also pale, showing no trace of color.
But his body was covered in blood—on his shoulders, chest, and even under his fingernails—all clotted blood, which looked especially glaring and terrifying against the snow-white bedding.
Staring at the ceiling, he opened his eyes and remained silent. After five breaths, when his breathing gradually steadied, he slowly turned to his side, propped himself up with his left hand on the edge of the bed, and sat up.
He sat on the edge of the bed for another five breaths, waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal, then stood up and walked to the mirror.
He looked at the blood-soaked youth in the mirror and was silent for a long time.
He was still alive. That feeling was wonderful.
Having walked to the edge of death and then returned to the mortal world—that feeling was truly wonderful.
He couldn't clearly remember what had happened in the underground space. He only knew that when the starlight began to burn, his consciousness had fallen into an abyss. In that abyss, there were nothing but burning flames, scorching dust, terrifying tearing sensations, unbearable pain, and despair.
He felt as if he had had a dream, but he knew it was real. He was still somewhat dazed. Subconsciously, he lifted his sleeve and sniffed it. His clothes were stained with blood everywhere. Although there was no pungent smell of blood, for someone who loved cleanliness like him, this was unbearable.
He thought it was all his own blood and still couldn't stand it. So he began to wash himself, scrubbing many times until he was sure all the blood was gone. He took a large towel to dry the water droplets from his body, walked to the mirror, and prepared to open the window to let in some clean air from the winter snow.
As he passed the large mirror, he suddenly stopped and looked into it.
In the mirror, the youth was bare-chested, looking quite ordinary. But he noticed something very unusual.
Few people in this world knew their own bodies as well as he did—because of his illness, he had always paid close attention to these matters. He clearly remembered that on his left upper arm, there was a scar left by his senior brother's acupuncture needle when he made a mistake. But now, that scar was gone, and his left upper arm was completely smooth.
It was then that he noticed his skin had become much smoother, like that of a newborn baby. What puzzled him even more was that, despite being so severely injured, there wasn't a single scar on his body. Even the old scars he had before had all disappeared, down to the tiniest one.
Could this be marrow cleansing? From spring to now, the starlight drawn from that distant fate star, in the process of turning into true essence, had incidentally helped him succeed in marrow cleansing?
He didn't feel the ecstasy of having his wish fulfilled, because he was still confused and in a dazed state.
He looked at the youth in the mirror, frowning as he thought seriously.
Thinking was the best way to calm and sober oneself. He became increasingly clear-headed and remembered more and more things. Finally, he recalled that just before he lost consciousness, he should have been in the cold underground space, in front of the Black Dragon senior. How did he end up waking up back at the National Academy?
He looked at the slightly damp towel and gently rubbed it with his hand to confirm that the wetness was real.
He walked to the window and looked toward the palace walls deep in the winter forest. He thought that the way out of the underground space was that pond. If the Black Sheep hadn't found a way to send him back to the National Academy, the only one who could have done it was that middle-aged woman. Who was she?
What exactly had happened in the underground space earlier? Why was he still alive? Had he truly succeeded in marrow cleansing?
He stood by the window in silence for a long time before finally making a decision. He walked back to the bed, threw aside the bedding, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and began to meditate and observe internally.
That despairing and terrifying abyss had begun when he started meditating. Now that he had survived, he unhesitatingly meditated again. Because while living was extremely important to him, he couldn't accept living in ignorance. He needed to understand his current state.
His consciousness entered his body and began to wander again. But now, with experience, this wandering was no longer aimless observation; it was more like inspecting his own territory. It didn't take long for his consciousness to reach that vast snowy plain, looking down from the sky.
He closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly, his face pale as snow.
He was very nervous, worried that his consciousness would fall onto the snowy plain again and ignite that terrifying fire.
Even with his iron will, he absolutely didn't want to endure that kind of pain again.
Fortunately, this time his consciousness didn't descend, and no special changes occurred.
The vast snowy plain remained the same. His consciousness noticed that in a corner, a patch of snow had burned away without a trace, turning into dozens of tiny streams flowing southward, nourishing the barren wilderness along the way. But those streams were too thin, and the mountain ranges were broken, making it impossible to form what could be called a water system.
Those streams should be true essence. Due to the special condition of his meridians, they couldn't connect with each other like ordinary cultivators' and could only exist in small areas.
Chen Changsheng opened his eyes and began to think.
His current situation seemed somewhat similar to Luoluo's, but in reality, it was very different.
Luoluo's body was filled with abundant true essence, but the meridians of the demon race were very simple compared to humans, making it difficult to practice human techniques. His true essence was now pitifully scarce, and his meridians were completely severed, making it even harder to practice techniques. However, there was a certain underlying principle that connected the two.
He had been thinking about the meridian problem for years, which was why he had solved Luoluo's problem in just a few months. The process of solving Luoluo's problem was actually preparation for solving his own problem now. He had long planned how to cultivate.
Yes, the amount of true essence in his body was indeed small, and his meridians were indeed severed, but that didn't mean he couldn't cultivate.
He walked to the window, looked at the most prominent cloud pine in the winter forest by the lake, adjusted his breath for a moment, and grasped the hilt of his short sword.
With a clear ring, the short sword left its sheath. A sword intent, seemingly scattered but actually condensed, drifted from the second-floor window toward that distant place.
The first form of the Zhongshan Wind and Rain Sword: Rising in Turmoil.
But he didn't use the true essence circulation method of the Zhongshan Wind and Rain Sword; instead, he used the simulation method he had taught Luoluo.
This was Chen Changsheng's first time using true essence. From this moment on, he began to call himself a cultivator, or a practitioner of the Dao.
Anyone with his experience would likely be overjoyed, even moved to tears. But he wasn't. Just like when he confirmed the flow of true essence in his body earlier, he was as calm as a five-hundred-year-old cultivation senior, not like a fifteen-year-old youth.
Because cultivation was never his goal, only his means. And because he had imagined this scene countless times before, thinking about it so often had numbed him.
As the sword intent broke through the air, his face instantly turned pale. He let out a soft groan, feeling some pain.
The distant cloud pine remained motionless, but the stone platform outside the window cracked. Several pebbles shot into the room like arrows, embedding into the wall with dull thuds. One hit his left arm.
Following the method he taught Luoluo still had some issues. Finding a new channel was indeed not easy.
Chen Changsheng shook his head and turned back to get some medicinal powder to bandage his left arm.
Although his true essence was weak and couldn't truly unleash the power of the Zhongshan Wind and Rain Sword, it was still true essence driving the sword. The stones kicked up were no less powerful than ordinary arrows. They could penetrate the wall, so naturally, they could easily injure his left arm.
He should be more careful in the future, he told himself.
Then he noticed that his left arm wasn't injured at all—not even a single hair was broken.
(I'll try to write the next chapter before midnight.)