Chapter 349: The Sky Is Falling, Someone Must Hold It Up
"Why?" Xu Yourong's face was somewhat pale.
"The gate of Zhou Garden is about to open." Chen Changsheng glanced at the young Peng, but spoke of something else.
The reopening of Zhou Garden was, of course, good news, yet there was no joy in his voice, because the collapse was still ongoing. He had followed Xu Yourong's method, turning the black stone into a Heavenly Book Stele to halt the arrival of destruction, but it wasn't enough—the snowy mountains had begun to crumble, the initial primordial force of heaven and earth had fallen silent again, but who could stop the snow sliding downward, growing larger and larger?
A storm of energy arrived before the mausoleum, accompanied by over a dozen terrifying tearing sounds. The mausoleum began to shake violently, and several massive rocks from the southwest corner above crashed down. The azure sky, fractured, grew dim, and many fragments of the sky drifted wildly in the gale, destined to fall to the grassland surface at some unknown time. In the distant Zhou Garden, countless streams of fire raged, black smoke and flames everywhere. Beasts fled in panic, and faintly, many screams and wails could be heard—this world was being destroyed.
Xu Yourong stared into his eyes—she lacked the strength to raise her hand and grab his collar, but that was her intent. Earlier, she had indeed said that even if these Heavenly Book Steles restored balance, it would be useless; Zhou Garden had already entered the process of destruction. But if the gate of Zhou Garden was truly about to open, then why not leave together? Why should I go first?
"The sky is about to fall." He looked into her eyes and said very seriously.
"And then?" She looked into his eyes and asked very seriously.
"If no one holds it up, no one will have time to escape."
Chen Changsheng raised the yellow paper umbrella, stood up, turned to face her, and said, "I have to stay and find a way to hold on a little longer."
Xu Yourong's trembling voice was like a lake disturbed by rain: "You? How... will you manage?"
How will you manage to do it? What will you do? It was unclear which meaning her words leaned toward more.
Chen Changsheng looked at her and said honestly, "I'll figure it out as I go."
The Heavenly Book Stele had returned to Zhou Garden, and the formation had stabilized, buying the creatures within Zhou Garden the most precious stretch of time. The gate of Zhou Garden was opening, but at the current speed, it might not be fast enough. If those outside couldn't open the gate in time, the sky would fall, and the beasts living here, along with the hundreds of human cultivators who had entered Zhou Garden, would all die beneath the torrents of fire.
Zhou Garden would be destroyed, and so many lives might perish, all because he had taken every sword from the Sword Pool—never mind the demon clan's schemes, the dark-robed figure's sinister plots, or how he and she had saved each other to reach the depths of the grasslands, or the summoning of the yellow paper umbrella and that sword intent. In short, all of this had happened because of him, so naturally, it was up to him to resolve it.
He had once thought that if he couldn't stop Zhou Garden's destruction, he might try using the short sword to take away the human cultivators and some beasts inside Zhou Garden. But the problem was that the short sword's space was limited, already holding ten thousand remnant swords, with no room for more. He believed the same was true for the spatial artifact Xu Yourong carried with her.
The only thing he could do now was to slow down Zhou Garden's destruction, giving the people inside time to leave, and also, in response to the young Peng's plea, to fight for the possibility of survival for the countless beasts living on the grasslands. So he had to stay, hoping to hold on a little longer, to buy a bit more time.
But... why was this? Xu Yourong didn't have time to ask that question before the young Peng grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her, flying toward the sky outside the mausoleum.
The great Peng had said it could only carry one person. Chen Changsheng didn't have time to give a final explanation either, as he watched the young Peng carry her away into the distance.
Fierce winds raged around the mausoleum. Xu Yourong was too weak to do anything, only staring blankly at him standing on the mausoleum. She looked very intently, as if she wanted to imprint his face entirely in her memory. Watching the shrinking figure on the mausoleum, she shouted, "Xu Sheng, you fool."
The wind was truly strong; by the time her voice reached the mausoleum, it was very faint, but Chen Changsheng heard it. He shouted a sentence back to her, but the wind was too fierce then, and she didn't catch it.
"My name isn't Xu Sheng. It's Chen Changsheng."
After saying this, he turned and ran toward the top of the mausoleum. The mausoleum was enormous, with a distance of several thousand zhang from the main gate at the end of the sacred path to its highest point, and the rock blocks forming the mausoleum itself were massive, making climbing very difficult. Fortunately, he possessed strength and speed beyond ordinary people, and it didn't take him long to reach the mausoleum's peak.
Standing on the rock at the mausoleum's summit, he looked at the distant, ceaselessly falling streams of fire, at the black smoke and burning gardens, at the fractured sky and the collapsing firmament that seemed right before his eyes, and tightened his grip on the sword in his hand—the sky was truly falling.
Luoluo had once said something to him with deep emotion.
That sentence was what the White Emperor had told her: "When the sky falls, there will be a tall person to hold it up for you."
Now he stood at the mausoleum's highest point, the highest place in all of Zhou Garden, higher than the peak of Muyu Peak, closest to the sky, farthest from the ground, seeing the farthest—so he was now the tallest person in Zhou Garden.
If the sky fell, of course it was up to him to hold it up. This had nothing to do with the saying "with great power comes great responsibility," because he believed this was his own responsibility, and coincidentally, he happened to have the ability for it—who else was just on the mausoleum, holding an umbrella, with ten thousand swords in his sheath?
He swapped the short sword and the yellow paper umbrella between his hands. With a hiss, the sharp short sword plunged deep into the rock, anchoring him against the gale, and then he extended the yellow paper umbrella in his right hand toward the precarious sky. With a whoosh, the yellow paper umbrella unfurled in the wind, becoming a trembling little yellow flower, as if it might be crushed to dust by the hurricane at any moment.
This yellow paper umbrella could be said to be the most defensive artifact in the world, combined with that proud and powerful sky-covering sword intent. If it were in the hands of a true peerless master, it would surely shine with dazzling brilliance. But... it was still impossible to hold up a sky with just this umbrella, even if it was only the sky of the small world of Zhou Garden, let alone now that the yellow paper umbrella was in his hands. A cultivator at the Tongyou Upper Realm was certainly remarkable among the younger generation, but before this sky, he was so insignificant.
Please come out and help me. Chen Changsheng said in his heart.
This was his responsibility, so he had to hold it up. It seemed to be the swords' responsibility too, but those swords had originally been forced to stay in Zhou Garden, so he used the word "please."
Without any pause, following his will, the air around the massive rocks at the mausoleum's summit erupted with countless piercing sword cries, generating countless powerful sword winds. In that instant, they even suppressed the hurricane raging through Zhou Garden.
Countless swords surged out from the sheath at his waist!
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh! These swords flew up, brushing past the edges of the yellow paper umbrella, then rapidly spread out like a firework.
Ten thousand swords formed dozens of sword lines, starting from the mausoleum's summit and landing in the sky, like the ribs of an umbrella.
This was a giant umbrella spanning a thousand li.
Held open by Chen Changsheng, propping up the sky that was about to collapse.
...
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(I'll try to write the next chapter before nine o'clock.)