Chapter 189: The Eighth Portrait in the Lingyan Pavilion
The stone steps were wide and flat, carved with fine lines—not patterns, but merely for traction. Though the steps stretched endlessly, with no railings or ropes on either side, as if overlooking an abyss, walking on them felt extremely steady, as if one could never make a misstep. Perhaps this was precisely the protection that the builder of these steps had intended for those who came after.
Gazing at the seemingly endless stone steps, there was finally an end to them. Chen Changsheng walked in silence and calm, not knowing how much time had passed, until at last he arrived above the night sky.
At the end of the stone steps was a flat expanse, and in the middle stood a pavilion built of wooden beams and stone bricks. This building occupied a vast area and was extremely tall, yet because it was far from the ground and the mortal world, it appeared very lonely.
Looking into the distant night, the only figure in his parallel line of sight was the Sweet Dew Terrace. Those legendary luminous pearls emitted a faint glow, looking like a single lamp.
Throughout the entire imperial palace, and even the whole capital, aside from the Sweet Dew Terrace, his position was the highest. He could see all the streets and alleys of the capital. If the weather were good, he could even see the Ba River willows in the distance. But Chen Changsheng did not gaze into the distance to enjoy the view, because the night was deep and he couldn’t clearly see the scenery on the ground, and more importantly, because he was not in the mood to appreciate the scenery.
After withdrawing his gaze from the Sweet Dew Terrace, his eyes fell upon that solitary pavilion and never moved away. His expression remained unchanged, but within his heart, emotions had begun to stir slightly.
From Xining to the capital, through thousands of miles of wind and rain.
He had finally arrived before the Lingyan Pavilion.
The Lingyan Pavilion had no plaque, no hanging lanterns, no ornate decorations—only wooden beams and blue stone walls that carried a natural aura of solemnity. There was not a single ray of light, making it seem exceptionally silent.
The main door was not locked either, as if it could be pushed open with just a touch.
Chen Changsheng stood before the door, silent for a moment, composing himself until his breathing became absolutely steady. Then he raised both hands, placed them on the door, and pushed forward with slight force.
There was no creaking sound. Smooth as a leaf falling into water, the door of the Lingyan Pavilion slowly opened. A beam of light spilled out through the crack. As the gap widened, more light poured out, falling upon him, illuminating the slight surprise on his face with perfect clarity.
The light spilling from the Lingyan Pavilion was white, casting his slightly youthful face like jade. His eyebrows, in contrast, appeared even darker, like straight ink lines.
Chen Changsheng didn’t understand why it was so bright inside, why there was so much light, and why none of it had been visible from outside. Were all those windows fake?
As he pondered these things, his movements didn’t slow. The door was pushed open about a foot, and he stepped over the threshold, walking into the Lingyan Pavilion.
Just as his left foot touched the ground, the door closed behind him again. He instinctively looked back, staring at the tightly shut door in silence for a moment, vaguely guessing that both he and the blazing white light inside this building could no longer be seen by anyone outside. From another perspective, from the moment he pushed open this door and entered the Lingyan Pavilion, he had been isolated from the real world.
His contemplation lasted only a moment. He turned his head and looked forward, seeing nothing but brightness.
Inside the Lingyan Pavilion, there were no lamps, no tallow candles, no luminous pearls. If some formation was attached to the doors and windows, completely blocking out the sun, wind, and sound, then it should have been pitch black inside. So where had all that light spilling out from the door come from?
He squinted, walking toward that blazing white light. Because the light was too dazzling, he couldn’t clearly see what was inside the building, let alone the legendary portraits of meritorious officials. He was like a moth drawn to a flame, moving forward solely by instinct or the simplest perception.
However, he had only taken one step before he was forced to stop.
Because he sensed an extremely terrifying aura. That aura came from every part of the building, from every thread of the light. It was solemn, sacred, bloody, violent—carrying countless flavors yet sharing one essence: power, unimaginable power.
That powerful aura fell upon his clothes, upon his brows and eyes, burrowed into his skin, flowed through his blood vessels, and penetrated deep into his organs. In an instant, it had swept through his entire body.
Chen Changsheng could not resist this aura at all. Before it, he was like the tiniest ant, unable to react, unable even to muster the courage to resist.
That aura circulated through his body and soul several times without causing him any harm, but just this contact made his spiritual sense begin to violently destabilize. If it lasted any longer, his sea of consciousness would collapse, crushed to powder by this aura.
Fortunately, the aura did not linger for long. Just as a collapsing giant building was about to touch the ground, it suddenly turned into a gentle breeze, softly and lightly leaving his body and vanishing.
In an instant, Chen Changsheng’s clothes were completely soaked with sweat.
He steadied himself and continued walking. Fortunately, when his second step landed, no strange things happened, unlike before when he felt as if he were on a brutal battlefield.
The light was still blazing. He squinted, walking toward the brightest and most intense spot. In his vision, he vaguely saw a beam of light blooming like a flower, and he understood that this was probably the source.
He reached out toward that blazing flower of light. His fingertips touched it, but it wasn’t hot—instead, it was icy cold and very comfortable. His fingers followed it upward until finally, he grasped it tightly in his hand.
The moment he grasped it, the light suddenly converged. The blazing white pavilion gradually darkened. He squinted, barely able to make out some images, until finally, everything became normal.
Only then did he realize that he was holding a torch in his hand.
The material of the torch was neither metal nor jade; it was more like colored glaze, yet not transparent. On its milky white surface were countless tiny sparkling particles, which seemed to contain a great deal of energy.
This torch was the blooming flower of light from before. After he grasped it, the light gradually gathered and condensed into its current form, leaving only a white flame at the top.
That flame was not vigorous, but it was beautiful—like fireworks in broad daylight, hard to see clearly, yet adding a crisp and sharp sense of breakthrough to the gray sky.
Chen Changsheng looked at the torch, vaguely recalling some records he had once read in the Daoist canon. In the ancient Hundred Artifacts Ranking, the demon race had a divine artifact called Daylight Flame. Could this torch be that legendary artifact? Had it been retrieved by Emperor Taizong’s generals during the war and brought back to the capital?
At this thought, he felt the torch in his hand become very heavy. He realized that he was now standing inside the Lingyan Pavilion, standing within humanity’s most glorious history.
He instinctively looked around. The pavilion was empty—no tables, no chairs, only a meditation cushion in the very center, making it seem exceptionally vast and even somewhat desolate.
This building didn’t seem meant for people to live in. In fact, the Lingyan Pavilion was not used for dwelling but for enshrining portraits—the dozens of paintings on the gray-white walls.
Chen Changsheng raised the torch and walked toward the wall, stopping in front of the first portrait.
That portrait depicted a middle-aged nobleman with three thick strands of beard, a smile in his brows and eyes, though his eyes were set somewhat far apart, giving him a detached air. This was the renowned Duke of Zhao, the outstanding hero.
Looking at this famously illustrious brother-in-law of Emperor Taizong, Chen Changsheng was silent for a moment, then bowed in respect. But he did not linger long and continued onward.
The second portrait was of Prince Hejian, Chen Gong. The third was of Duke of Lai, Du Ruyu. The fourth was the famous Duke of Wei. The fifth was the Duke of Zheng, whose wife was even more renowned…
Before these portraits, Chen Changsheng bowed respectfully but did not pause. It was not until he arrived before the eighth portrait that the expression on his face finally changed.