Chapter 357: The Reason for Sorrow
Xu Yourong gazed out the window, silent, waiting for that person to emerge from the Zhou Garden. Though the green curtain by the window was drawn, it could not block her view.
Time continued to flow mercilessly. The sun rose slowly, the daylight shifted gradually, moving from the city walls of Hanqiu City to the official road, until it illuminated the entire world. It also passed through the curtain, shining into the carriage and falling upon her face, making her complexion grow increasingly pale.
After leaving the Zhou Garden, she had immediately informed Archbishop Meilisha and Zhu Luo of what had truly happened inside—that the sky of the Zhou Garden was collapsing. The reason these people had time to escape was that a young man was on the Zhou Mausoleum in the grasslands, holding up the sky with an umbrella. They must find a way to rescue him as quickly as possible.
If she were not Xu Yourong, Meilisha and Zhu Luo would certainly have thought she was mad. But even though she was Xu Yourong, and even though Meilisha and Zhu Luo believed her words, they had no way to save that young man alone on the Zhou Mausoleum holding up the sky. Only those who had reached the Tongyou realm could enter the Zhou Garden, and as she had said, saving that young man required a cultivator of an even higher realm. Zhu Luo might have had that ability, but the Zhou Garden was now collapsing and extremely unstable. If he stepped inside, that small world might be destroyed in an instant.
No one could save that young man except the young man himself. So Xu Yourong could do nothing but wait for him. At that moment, a senior sister from the Qingyao Thirteen Divisions hurried to the carriage window and, speaking through the green curtain, said to her, "There is no one named Xu Sheng. And I checked—the Snow Mountain Sect sent no one this year."
Xu Yourong was silent for a moment, then asked, "How many people still haven't come out?"
"About forty or so," the senior sister from the Qingyao Thirteen Divisions replied after a brief hesitation, lowering her voice. "Chen Changsheng of the National Academy... hasn't come out either."
Saying this, she worried about Xu Yourong's condition. She thought Xu Yourong was concerned for her fiancé's safety and had sent her to investigate these matters. Yet Xu Yourong showed no reaction, which surprised her.
The person Xu Yourong was waiting for was not Chen Changsheng. The register of cultivators who had entered the Zhou Garden did not list Xu Sheng of the Snow Mountain Sect, but she knew very well that the Snow Mountain Sect disciple Xu Sheng was inside the Zhou Garden, and at that very moment, he was on the Zhou Mausoleum, holding up that great umbrella formed from ten thousand swords.
Using a pseudonym to enter the Zhou Garden, or even changing one's sect with the tacit approval of the Li Palace, was a common practice. In her mind, since Xu Sheng was a hidden genius disciple upon whom the Snow Mountain Sect pinned its hopes for revival, it was entirely possible that he, like her, had entered the Zhou Garden under a different identity and could not be found on the register.
In truth, she had never placed her hopes on seeing that young man's name on the register. After leaving the Zhou Garden, she had sat silently by the carriage window, watching every person who emerged from the mist deep in the forest—whether walking out or being carried out. She was certain she had not missed a single one, because she had not blinked even once.
She saw many senior and junior brothers from the Longevity Sect, some fellow disciples from Nanxi Zhai, the wounded she had treated during those nights, and the wolf tribe youth who had carried Seven Intervals on his back, knocking down four trees before reaching the roadside. But she never saw him.
Finally, several figures emerged from the mist, supporting one another. Then, an unimaginably terrifying aura burst forth from within the fog. The rainbow that had fallen into the mist suddenly trembled and wavered, as if it might snap at any moment. At the same time, the faintly visible Hua Ting of the Zhou Garden within the mist twisted and fragmented into countless images, as if about to vanish.
Witnessing this scene, Meilisha seemed to age even further. Zhu Luo rose gracefully, gliding into the sky above the mist. When the rainbow finally broke, a bright, beautiful sword light fell from his hand to the ground, directly constructing an immensely powerful barrier that separated the world behind the mist from the real world.
A thunderous roar echoed for hundreds of li around Hanqiu City.
Even though Zhu Luo, as one of the Eight Winds and Rains and one of the strongest on the continent, had struck with all his might, he could not fully seal the eruption of that powerful aura. A hurricane swept through, carrying green leaves and soil, rolling toward the forest with a ceaseless howl. It devoured the official road in an instant and only stopped when it slammed into the sturdy city walls of Hanqiu City.
The wind ceased, the dust settled, and the world regained its clarity. The forest was filled with groans and coughs. People looked toward the back of the woods and saw that the thick mist had completely dissipated. But the green mountain that should have been behind the mist... had vanished without a trace!
The gate of the Zhou Garden had disappeared. The Zhou Garden itself had vanished. No one knew if anyone would ever be able to open its gate again. Even if they could, it would be meaningless. The energy that had leaked out before the Zhou Garden collapsed had directly turned a real green mountain into nothingness. How could the Zhou Garden itself still exist?
The forest fell into dead silence. Even the startled birds had been killed by the aura spewed forth as the Zhou Garden was annihilated, their stiff bodies lying among the fallen leaves and soil.
The silence was broken by sorrowful cries. Many teachers from various sects and academies wore mournful expressions. Many young cultivators knelt beside the corpses of their classmates and fellow disciples, weeping uncontrollably. The priests and officials of the Li Palace gathered their thoughts and conducted another tally, confirming that twenty-seven human cultivators who had entered the Zhou Garden had not come out. It was unknown whether they had died earlier in the demon tribe's conspiracy or perished during the Zhou Garden's annihilation. Meanwhile, more than a dozen corpses lay scattered in the forest.
The curtain was thickly coated with dust, blocking the light and obscuring the view, darkening Xu Yourong's face as well.
She closed her eyes, her long lashes fluttering slightly.
She said nothing, her right hand gently stroking the pheasant beside her, trembling faintly.
"Let's go," she said softly.
The carriage of the Qingyao Thirteen Divisions moved along the official road, heading into the distance.
The wind on the road blew the dust off the curtain, allowing her to see the scenes by the roadside—the wounded lying on stretchers, groaning in pain.
This saddened her.
In those first nights within the Zhou Garden, she and Chen Changsheng had not met, but they had tirelessly saved people. These wounded were the ones they had rescued together.
And Chen Changsheng had not made it out of the Zhou Garden either.
Only then did she realize a truth: the little Daoist from the letters years ago... was also dead.
She had thought she would not grieve for him, but she found that she did feel some sorrow.
If not for this engagement, he would not have come to the capital, would not have taken the Grand Examination, would not have entered the National Academy, would not have come to the Zhou Garden, and naturally would not have died. He would still be in that old temple in Xining Town, reciting the Three Thousand Daoist Scriptures every day, wouldn't he?
She had long forgotten those letters, but now, for some reason, she suddenly remembered that Chen Changsheng had once written in a letter that reciting the Daoist scriptures every day was exhausting. But... no matter how exhausting, it was better than dying now, wasn't it?
The wheels rumbled over the official road, producing a creaking sound. This was farewell.
Everyone had to learn to say goodbye.
Parting was always sorrowful and painful, even for Xu Yourong. After all, she was only a fifteen-year-old girl.
What saddened her most was that the person she had been waiting for had still not appeared.
Is your name really Xu Sheng? Are you truly a disciple of the Snow Mountain Sect? Do you not yet know that my name is Xu Yourong? Does anyone know that we once stood shoulder to shoulder on the grasslands, faced life and death together, and sat in silent companionship? Your family and teachers may grieve for you, but I... I don't even have the right to grieve. That is the truly sorrowful thing.
...
...
Shortly after the carriage of the Qingyao Thirteen Divisions departed, another sorrowful event occurred in the forest outside Hanqiu City.
Someone was about to die.
This year, due to the demon tribe's conspiracy, the Zhou Garden's opening had resulted in heavy casualties among human cultivators. Logically, death was a common occurrence.
But the person about to die was Liang Xiaoxiao of the Lishan Sword Sect.
This made the matter no longer ordinary, and deeply sorrowful.
Then, this sorrow would quickly turn into anger.
Because everyone present believed that the one who killed Liang Xiaoxiao was not the demon tribe, but Zhexiu.
...
...
(See you tomorrow.)