Chapter 119: The Final Form (Part 1)
The assassin was behind Chen Changsheng. Using this simplest, even somewhat clumsy method, he had rendered all of Chen Changsheng’s vigilance and defenses useless. Now he had already flashed to Su Li’s front, only one zhang away.
For an assassin at the Star Gathering Upper Realm, this distance was essentially nonexistent. Aside from those in the Divine Domain, only a handful of people like Jin Yulu and Nanke could be faster than him, relying on their extraordinary natural speed.
The assassin’s gaze met Su Li’s in the torrential rain.
This was now an unchangeable, fatal situation, so their eyes were very calm. Yet within that calm lurked extremely complex emotions. The assassin looked at Su Li, and deep within his ruthless eyes, a trace of indelible pain and hatred accumulated over countless years could faintly be seen. As for Su Li, looking at this assassin who broke through the rain, the emotions between his brows were very casual, showing that he cared little for this man or even his own life. But why did he seem so solemn?
The yellow paper umbrella was in Su Li’s left hand, drenched by the rain. His right hand was still some distance from the umbrella handle. Did he still have the strength to fight? In the next moment, would he reach out and grasp the umbrella handle, as he had on the snowy plains or earlier in the inn?
For dozens of days and nights, the assassin had followed in silence. No matter how brutal the battles between Chen Changsheng and Su Li against Xue He and Liang Hongzhuang were, the assassin never made a move. Even earlier in the inn, when Liang Wangsun and Xiao Zhang arrived, he still didn’t seize the opportunity. It had to be said that this assassin, ranked third in the world, indeed possessed unimaginable caution and keenness. At that time, he felt the situation still had variables, so he remained motionless. Only now, when Wang Po appeared, Zhu Luo drew his sword, and Chen Changsheng, with youthful fervor, walked toward that rainy street—when all changes had reached their end—did he choose to strike.
When all changes were complete, his appearance was the sole remaining variable.
At the end of the road, when the water recedes and the stones emerge, when the sun sets, when you’ve reached the final step, naturally there’s no turning back. Just like Chen Changsheng leaving Su Li’s side—even if it was only a dozen steps, it was already too late to turn back, let alone turn around to save him.
Chen Changsheng’s body was very cold.
He was not Jin Yulu, nor Nanke. Although he knew the Yashi Step, he had no way to return to Su Li’s side before that assassin in such a short time.
The fastest thing in the world was not the red falcon or the red goose, not Jin Yulu or Nanke, not that assassin, but thought.
As he thought these things with despair, his body had already moved.
He didn’t even realize he had moved himself.
He moved with the Yashi Step, without turning around, without calculating star positions, relying entirely on his flawless memory of thousands of Yashi Step positions, recalling Su Li’s location, and then vanished into the rainy sky.
He knew it would be very difficult to succeed in getting back before that assassin, but he wanted to try.
Perhaps it was because the world felt Su Li shouldn’t die at this moment, or because the world was moved by his intense regret and desire to make amends, or because his improved cultivation made the Yashi Step faster, or maybe the assassin’s movement technique and sword weren’t as fast as people imagined, or perhaps he had attached a sword intent to the Yashi Step…
A soft sound rang out on the rainy street. *Puchi.*
That was the sound of a sword meeting blood, the sound of a water bladder bursting.
Chen Changsheng appeared in the rainy air before Su Li.
He had actually used the Yashi Step to beat that assassin back!
He lowered his head to look at his chest and abdomen.
The assassin’s sword had pierced into his belly, and blood slowly seeped out.
That assassin looked at Chen Changsheng, and a trace of bewildered expression appeared in his originally indifferent eyes.
He couldn’t understand how his sword had pierced into Chen Changsheng’s body.
Chen Changsheng also had many things he couldn’t understand. For instance, that an assassin at the Star Gathering Upper Realm was truly this formidable, able to easily pierce his body. Although the wound wasn’t too deep, it really hurt. He looked at his slowly bleeding abdomen, somewhat dazed, and then thought with some relief—why did the blood flowing now have almost no smell?
The assassin couldn’t understand why Chen Changsheng had been able to return so quickly.
—There was residual sword intent, lingering in the heavy rain.
The assassin sensed it, and then understood. It was the final form of the Lishan Sword Art.
The final form of the Lishan Sword Art: mutual destruction, sacrificing life and forgetting death—a sword that didn’t care about one’s own life.
When you don’t care about your life, it’s naturally absolute. Because it’s absolute, it’s very fast.
From the Grand Examination battles to the snowy plains, to practicing the Burning Sword, Chen Changsheng was very familiar with this form.
No one in the world was more familiar with this form than he was.
In that moment of despair, he didn’t have time to draw his sword; he only had time to unleash this form.
This form didn’t require a sword, only that spirit of sacrifice.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, he had gambled and won.
He used the final form of the Lishan Sword Art to return to Su Li’s side.
He used his own body to block that assassin’s incredibly sinister and powerful sword.
Blood slowly flowed out, then was washed away by the rain.
The rainy street fell silent.
Watching this scene, the crowd was stunned into silence.
No one had expected that Chen Changsheng would actually risk his life to protect Su Li. Even fewer had expected that he would be severely wounded as a result.
At this moment, everyone in Xunyang City had come to kill Su Li, but no one wanted to kill Chen Changsheng. He was the dean of the National Academy, the nephew of His Holiness the Pope… This was just an accident.
Was it an accident? It was indeed very unexpected. Whether it was Zhu Luo on that rainy street, Su Li on his horse, or even the assassin before him—all were surprised. So, what now?
Then, another soft sound rang out on the rainy street.
Blood spurted as the sword left Chen Changsheng’s body.
That assassin struck at Su Li again, very calmly, even somewhat woodenly.
Chen Changsheng stepped onto a star position, broke through the rain curtain, and merged sword with movement technique.
He appeared once more before the assassin’s sword.
With a *puchi*, the blade again sank into his chest and abdomen, drawing blood.
His face was pale, but two patches of red appeared.
That was the color of pain and blood loss, also the solemnity born of persistence and will.
The assassin lowered his head slightly, quietly looking at him, saying nothing. The meaning in his eyes was very clear: You will die.
Chen Changsheng was too injured to speak. Rainwater streamed over his face, but his meaning was also very clear: So what?
Some people choose to die to save others, like Chen Changsheng. Some people die to kill others, like Liang Xiaoxiao.
From the demon snowy plains to Tianliang Commandery, on the thousands of miles journey south, Chen Changsheng and Su Li had encountered many things and thought of certain places.
What Chen Changsheng missed most was the capital. What Su Li worried about most was Lishan.
Lishan was also very worried about Su Li, but at that time, Lishan was facing many troublesome problems. Qishan Jun was severely wounded and still unconscious. Qijian, who had just been transported back to Lishan, was also in a coma. Then, many people arrived before the mountain. In the capital, many were worried about Chen Changsheng. Luoluo stood on the roof of Qingxian Hall, watching the sunset every day, her delicate face filled with worry and sadness. The National Academy was as quiet as a grave. Xuanyuan Po went to the Tianling Mausoleum every day to see if Tang Thirty-Six had come out. The banyan tree by the lake was aggressively green in spring, but no one came to visit.
The events in the Zhou Garden had ended, but the aftermath was far from settled. People left Hanqiu City, spreading the events inside the Zhou Garden and the shocking news from outside across the entire continent—the demon race had somehow infiltrated the Zhou Garden, then forcibly closed it, stirring up countless bloody storms inside. Later, the Zhou Garden inexplicably collapsed and should now be destroyed. Many highly talented young cultivators had fallen within. Most shocking of all, Chen Changsheng had gone missing in the Zhou Garden, his life or death unknown.
Now, Chen Changsheng was no longer that young Daoist from the old temple in Xining Town. He was the top scholar of last year’s Grand Examination. He had summoned the starry sky at the Tianling Mausoleum, helping dozens of young cultivators of his generation successfully break through realms. He was also the young genius most valued by His Holiness the Pope, the youngest dean of the National Academy in history.
For such a person to be missing, his fate unknown, naturally drew the shocked attention of the entire continent. The only thing comparable was Liang Xiaoxiao’s accusation before his death. Liang Xiaoxiao hadn’t stated it explicitly before dying, but everyone present knew what he wanted to say… that Chen Changsheng, Qijian, and Zheshe had colluded with the demon race.
If anyone else had made this accusation, it would only have invited ridicule. But Liang Xiaoxiao was a disciple of Lishan, a renowned member of the Seven Laws of the Divine Kingdom. He had no reason to frame his junior brother Qijian. Most importantly… Liang Xiaoxiao was dead.
He had died under the final form of the Lishan Sword Art.
And the dead don’t lie.
“The dead can’t even speak, so naturally they don’t lie. The problem is, when that Lishan disciple said those words, he wasn’t dead yet. So why assume he wouldn’t lie?”
“But Liang Xiaoxiao was already severely wounded and near death at the time. Those words were essentially a dying declaration.”
Zhou Tong showed no expression. His eyebrows, under the oil lamp’s light, were like two ink lines. He said, “Are dying declarations necessarily trustworthy? Then my Qingli Department’s work would be much simpler from now on. If any esteemed official thinks my evidence is insufficient, I could arrange for one of his nephews to commit suicide, leaving a few words before death—would that suffice?”
“I never knew that Lord Zhou Tong placed such importance on evidence.” Mo Yu looked at him and said. She had never liked Zhou Tong; the entire capital knew this. Of course, this didn’t affect their cooperation in court affairs. As the Saintess’s two most reliable arms in the imperial court, they had to cooperate well.
“The point is, no one believes Chen Changsheng would collude with the demon race, so I need evidence.”
Zhou Tong’s expression remained unchanged as he calmly said, “In fact, if that Lishan disciple hadn’t died, do you think the Li Palace would have agreed to hand Zheshe over to me based solely on Zhuang Huanyu’s accusation?”
Mo Yu was silent for a moment before asking, “How did the interrogation go?”
“He hasn’t said a single word, so naturally there’s no result.”
Zhou Tong said expressionlessly, “I’ll interrogate him for another month. If by then he still doesn’t admit to colluding with Chen Changsheng and the demon race… then I’ll admit he’s telling the truth.”
Hearing this, Mo Yu felt a chill and her face turned somewhat pale.
Zheshe had already been imprisoned for many days. If he was to be held for another month, could he still come out alive? He wasn’t in the Imperial Prison or the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon, but in the legendary, most sinister and terrifying Zhou Prison. No one could survive that long in Zhou Prison. Even if they could, it was too cruel.
So cruel that… even Zhou Tong himself felt some sympathy for that wolf tribe youth.
(Well written. Hope there can be an update tomorrow too. If not, I’ll let everyone know in advance.)