Chapter 107: The Meaning of Our Existence (Part 1)
Su Li asked again, “When you came downstairs just now, why didn’t you bring the yellow paper umbrella?”
The yellow paper umbrella had extremely strong defensive capabilities, able to withstand a full-force strike from a Star Gathering realm expert. At Wenshui, Chen Changsheng had heard Zhexiu mention this, but in recent days, the umbrella had been in Su Li’s hands, and ever since that day on the snowy plains, he had always felt it was a sword, never thinking of this point. Hearing Su Li’s words now, he was momentarily stunned.
He honestly admitted, “I forgot.”
Su Li sighed. “You’re really stupid.”
As the two spoke, Xiao Zhang did not move, Liang Wangsun did not move, and the people in the streets and alleys around the inn did not move.
Because the one speaking was Su Li.
For the past several hundred years, Su Li had been the idol of countless cultivators, the spirit sword of the human world. He could be killed, but not humiliated, for that would be tantamount to humiliating the human world itself. At such a moment, even the most insane Xiao Zhang didn’t mind waiting a while.
The outcome was already decided. The world could be killed, and the only one standing before Su Li, Chen Changsheng, had already been defeated. The gap in strength between the two sides was far too vast—in that era when wildflowers first bloomed in the cultivation world, there were four strongest figures. Treading Snow Xun Mei died on the path before the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, leaving three. Two of them had come to Xunyang City. What could Chen Changsheng do?
Behind the inn, a broken wall, unable to bear the wind’s gentle caress, collapsed with a crash, raising dust anew. As the dust settled, Xunyang City’s chief bishop, Hua Jiefu, appeared inside the building. He looked at Chen Changsheng seriously and said, “You can no longer change any of this. So why not let this matter end more peacefully?”
Chen Changsheng lowered his head and said nothing.
Su Li raised his right hand again and patted him on the shoulder, smiling as he said, “What kind of person am I? Do you, this little kid, really intend to stand guard before me for the rest of your life?”
Chen Changsheng understood his meaning and reluctantly moved aside.
When Liang Wangsun’s carriage arrived, he stood by the window. When Xiao Zhang’s spear arrived, he stood before the chair. Even when he fell, he fell before the chair. He had done his utmost. Now, at the final moment, whether out of respect or for other reasons, he should let Su Li face this storm himself. So he stepped aside.
Su Li sat in the chair, holding the yellow paper umbrella, looking at Xiao Zhang before him, Liang Wangsun on the carriage, and the people in the street. His expression was calm and indifferent, as if all these people were just irrelevant bystanders.
The sky over Xunyang City grew somewhat dim. The paper snow had stopped, and suddenly a light rain began to fall.
In the light rain, the streets and alleys were silent as crows, with no one speaking for a long time.
Xiao Zhang tilted his head, looking at Su Li with an unprecedented focus and fervor in his eyes, as if admiring an extremely precious piece of porcelain—one that he would soon shatter with his own hands.
The white paper on his face was soaked by the rain, distorting slightly, making him appear even more absurd and terrifying. The next moment, a voice, trembling slightly like the constant tapping of an iron wire, came from behind the white paper: “How interesting. Even someone like you has to die.”
When he said this, Xiao Zhang’s voice trembled even more, excited yet somewhat bewildered—excited because he was about to witness and personally participate in a crucial turning point in history, bewildered for reasons far more complex.
Su Li looked at him as if watching a wounded beast, pityingly saying, “Everyone has to die. Isn’t that simple truth something you understand? They say your madness has a bit of my flavor, but now you look like an idiot.”
If someone else called him an idiot, Xiao Zhang would absolutely go berserk on the spot, not stopping until the other was dead. But hearing Su Li’s words now, he didn’t even get angry. Instead, his eyes became incredibly sincere as he said, “Look, the ones here today are either bastards or trash. Dying at their hands is no fun at all.”
Su Li said irritably, “Are you really an idiot? Dying at anyone’s hands is no fun.”
Xiao Zhang puffed out his chest and said, “What about me? Dying at my hands would at least be a bit more interesting.”
Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but say, “Is this interesting to you?”
Everyone was talking about “meaning,” but not the same meaning.
Xiao Zhang looked at him, his eyes suddenly turning cold, his voice growing even more manic as he shouted, “Of course it’s interesting! He is Su Li! How could he die at the hands of those trash? He can only die under my spear!”
Indeed, many thought that even if he couldn’t fight and was severely injured, Su Li was still Su Li. He had never existed ordinary in this world, so how could he leave so ordinary?
Chen Changsheng had no words to counter, but Su Li himself had something to say.
“I object.” He looked at the crowd inside and outside the inn, speaking with great seriousness, “No matter how I die, I don’t agree.”
The streets and alleys in the light rain fell silent again, but unlike the previous moment, this silence came from shock. Not everyone had seen Su Li, and no one expected the legendary youngest master of Lishan to be so casual and flippant, even in his final moments, with none of the bearing of a legendary figure.
“Objection overruled.”
Liang Wangsun walked into the ruins of the inn, looked at Su Li in the chair, and after a moment of silence, bowed to him, saying, “When you killed three hundred of my household over a decade ago, you should have known this day would come.”
Then he looked at Chen Changsheng beside Su Li and said, “As I said earlier, repaying life with life is the fairest thing. Moreover, this one life must repay three hundred lives.”
Su Li brushed his disheveled black hair behind his shoulder and said dismissively, “Say whatever you want, la.”
Hearing that “la,” Chen Changsheng inexplicably thought of Luoluo, then of the assassination in the National Academy, of that demonic assassin, of the Black Robe, of the battle on the snowy plains. And so he still insisted this was unfair, but he no longer had the strength to uphold his view.
The rain fell slowly, drifting like silk, like strings.
Hundreds of gazes fixed on the ruins of the inn, on Su Li in the chair—burning yet cold, gratified yet reverent.
Su Li’s left hand held the yellow paper umbrella, but his right hand never seemed to intend to grasp its handle.
From the snowy plains to Xunyang City, across tens of thousands of miles of wind and snow, dust and road, people had confirmed countless times that the news was true: Su Li was indeed severely injured and powerless to fight. Yet still, no one dared to underestimate him. For centuries, the Black Robe’s personally arranged, most terrifying assassination attempt by the demon race had failed to kill him. How could someone like that die so simply?
Miracles seemed to be a term created for people like him.
The streets were dead silent, the atmosphere oppressive and tense.
No one knew when Xiao Zhang and Liang Wangsun would strike.
Just then, someone struck first.
A stone, wet from the rain, flew from the street and hit Su Li in the face.
With a dull smack.
A stream of blood flowed down from Su Li’s forehead.
Chen Changsheng no longer had the strength to block that stone for him.
Su Li himself had no strength to block it, nor even to dodge—a legendary expert who could slay a demon general with one sword and break a Star Gathering realm cultivator with a glance could no longer even avoid a stone.
The streets remained quiet, but the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
In the light rain, a burst of laughter rang out.
People looked over and saw it was the Star Mechanism Sect’s leader, Lin Canghai, who had thrown the stone.
Lin Canghai looked at the inn’s upper floor, laughing with venom and glee, “Su Li, look at you now! Even a dog knows to dodge a stone. Now you’re worse than a dog!”
In the light rain, Su Li’s clothes were soaked, his face pale, blood slowly trickling down. He looked utterly desolate.
Seeing this scene, though everyone had come to kill Su Li, their moods varied.
(Caught a cold. If I’m still this dizzy tomorrow, I might have to take a day off. Just giving you a heads-up.)