Chapter 141: Are You Chen Changsheng?
Zhu Luo’s voice was extremely angry and harsh. The word “harsh” here is difficult to prefix. If one had to find the most fitting term, it would be “blood-harsh,” like a cuckoo bird crying blood with every call. Yet that always felt somewhat inconsistent with his status. Of course, if one could associate it with his enemy at this moment—the object of his accusations being the Southern Saintess—perhaps they might gain a bit more understanding.
“Regardless, you have violated the Sacred Word Oath of that year!”
Zhu Luo’s furious accusations echoed through the silent sky above Xunyang City, a stark contrast to the Star Gazer’s silence. Most of those who heard these words had no idea what the Sacred Word Oath was, only recalling some phrases from the highest laws of various regions.
The general meaning of that phrase was: Heaven knows no north or south, Earth knows no east or west. As long as it was within the alliance territory of the human world and the banks of the Red River, any powerful figure who had entered the sacred domain could not quarrel with each other, let alone fight—unless the attacked sacred domain expert had done something completely against their own interests. This was the so-called Sacred Word Oath.
From the perspective of the alliance between humans and demons against the Demon Race, this oath was undoubtedly the most reasonable and necessary. The Saintess’s attack on Zhu Luo and the Star Gazer was the most severe betrayal of this oath.
“And what about you? The whole world knows that although my senior brother has not entered the ranks of saints nor holds sway over any region, his cultivation has long stepped into the sacred domain. Why did you attack him?”
The Saintess looked calmly toward the city gate and said, “Wang Po is one of the five young men most likely to enter the sacred domain. You wanted to kill him out of selfish motives—doesn’t that violate our Sacred Word Oath from back then?”
Her expression and tone were very calm, yet they naturally exuded a dignified and sacred aura.
Zhu Luo roared in fury, “Wang Po does not understand the bigger picture. As an elder, I was merely teaching him a lesson—where is the selfish motive?”
The Saintess replied calmly, “The Zhu clan of Tianliang Commandery wants to endure for eternity. How could they tolerate Wang Po continuing to grow? If you refuse to admit your selfish motives, it only shows that you dare not even face your own true heart.”
As Zhu Luo’s rage flared and he prepared to retort, the Saintess continued, “All oaths are words from the heart. For the sake of the Pope and Senior Brother Mei, I will spare your life today. Leave.”
Hearing this, Zhu Luo’s anger surged into his heart, aggravating his injuries. Blood gushed out even faster. The Star Gazer, who had remained silent all along, watched his miserable state. Suddenly, he rolled his eyes—a white-eyed glare—toward the gloomy clouds above Xunyang City.
A white-eyed glare was not a black-eyed look; it was contempt, disdain, and fury. As he gazed at the sky, the low-hanging clouds showed signs of dispersing. Faintly, one could even see a few streaks of starlight from the night sky miles away.
Starlight suddenly descended, enveloping Xunyang City, falling onto the wet streets like autumn frost, exuding a fierce killing intent.
From a distance of over ten li, the Saintess looked at the Star Gazer within the city gate. She raised her right hand and pointed a finger at him from afar.
With a soft crack, followed by countless soft cracks.
It was as if tens of thousands of porcelain pieces had been smashed by an iron rod wielded by an expert in group attacks.
Or as if the consciousness seas of countless cultivators had shattered simultaneously.
Extremely crisp, heart-stirring.
Crack, crack, crack, crack.
The snowflakes falling on the street shattered. The frost just forming on the rain’s surface broke.
Everything within the ten-li distance between this place and the city gate was destroyed.
The Star Gazer’s bamboo hat also broke into shreds. The corners of his lips cracked, and blood began to flow.
His heart, filled with malice and pride, finally completely broke in that instant. Without hesitation, he supported Zhu Luo and turned to flee toward the wilderness outside Xunyang City—a plain seemingly buried by night, yet no one knew what time had truly buried. In an instant, they vanished without a trace.
Xunyang City fell into utter silence, as if no one was there.
Ordinary people, incapable of participating in this battle, hid on their heated beds, behind windows, or under fences, still uneasy, their breaths stifled.
Those cultivators capable of joining the fight, those who wanted to kill Su Li, could only follow Zhu Luo and the Star Gazer’s retreat, including powerful figures like Liang Wangsun and Xue He.
Hua Jiefu led the clergy of Xunyang City to seal off the streets ravaged by the torrential rain, leaving a quiet, undisturbed space for conversation—those qualified to remain in the scene, aside from Su Li and the Southern Saintess, were naturally the three who had ensured Su Li’s survival with their lives and unimaginable willpower.
This cold-blooded slaughter, which began with the changes in the Zhou Garden, was written in the snowfield where the Demon Race ambushed, and then continued from the military fortress to Xunyang City, had finally come to an end. The assassination targeting Su Li had reached its conclusion—Su Li did not die; those who wanted him dead had all failed.
From the military fortress to Xunyang City, he had always brought Chen Changsheng along, but he was very clear that the one who could ultimately resolve this issue was his friend—a friend unknown to the entire continent.
However, the word “friend” needed to be questioned.
Or perhaps because it needed questioning, there was some awkwardness. Su Li looked at the Southern Saintess and said lightly, yet with a sense of natural entitlement, “Why did you come so late?”
Anyone who saved someone only to hear such reproach would be angry, but the Saintess was not angry. Instead, she replied calmly, “I was delayed by someone.”
Calmness was truly a kind of strength, representing seriousness.
Su Li had felt this strength many years ago, but he had never known how to face it. His wandering across the seas and detachment from worldly affairs were largely due to his desire to avoid this strength. Even now, he hadn’t learned to confront it directly, but at least he had learned to change the subject.
“Who delayed you?”
The Saintess did not directly answer his question. She said, “My disciple was severely injured.”
Just then, a voice—uncertain but clearly filled with concern and surprise—rang out.
“Xu Yourong was injured? Is she… alright?”
The one asking this question was naturally Chen Changsheng.
The Saintess’s gaze fell on the young man.
She did not smile, not even the faintest smile.
She was very calm, and thus very solemn, very dignified, very intimidating.
She asked, “Are you Chen Changsheng?”
Chen Changsheng suddenly understood the crux of the problem.
He and Xu Yourong were hostile, in every way. He had once thought that if he were Xu Yourong’s relative, he would certainly have no good feelings toward that young man named Chen Changsheng.
The Saintess was Xu Yourong’s teacher, the one who loved and trusted her most.
But he had just gone through a magnificent battle, a life-and-death self-examination. He could not choose to back down at this moment.
He looked at the Saintess very seriously and said, “Yes, I am Chen Changsheng.”
(Tonight, flowers fall like snow.)
…