Chapter 5: The Night
The Crown Prince is the natural heir to the throne. If the Great Zhou currently had a Crown Prince, or if the conflict between the State Religion and Her Holiness the Empress had not escalated to its current degree, the situation of the continent would be much more stable. In fact, the Great Zhou did once have a Crown Prince. He was the son of the late Emperor and Her Holiness the Empress, known as the Radiant Crown Prince.
Unfortunately, none of the Great Zhou’s Crown Princes had a good end. The Crown Prince after the founding Emperor’s establishment of the nation died tragically in the Hundred Herbs Garden Incident. The Crown Prince meticulously groomed by Emperor Taizong was eventually executed for an inexplicable rebellion. This Radiant Crown Prince’s fate was also unfortunate, but one could say it was relatively fortunate, because he died when he was very young.
Not long after the late Emperor’s passing, the Radiant Crown Prince died of illness while still in his swaddling clothes.
But no one believed it. Of course, no one believed it. How could the bloodline of the Imperial Clan and Her Holiness the Empress produce a child who died so young?
There were countless theories about the Radiant Crown Prince’s death.
One theory was the most widespread: back then, the Chen Imperial Clan and the old forces of the State Religion joined hands, intending to drive Her Holiness the Empress from the throne. In that thrilling struggle, Her Holiness the Empress and His Holiness the Pope achieved final victory. Hundreds of nobles from the Chen Imperial Clan were either executed or exiled. The teachers and students of the National Academy were nearly all dead, leaving only desolate frost-covered grass and broken walls. But Her Holiness paid a tremendous price for this—the Radiant Crown Prince was poisoned to death by Her Holiness’s enemies amid the chaos of that rebellion.
Another theory was also extremely widespread, but it could never be heard in teahouses or inns, only whispered uneasily in the dark of night. That theory was even more cruel, even more cold-blooded.
Some believed and secretly spread the word that hundreds of years ago, Her Holiness the Empress was expelled from the palace by His Majesty Emperor Taizong, living a bitter life in the Hundred Herbs Garden. There, she met His Holiness the Pope and the former Dean of the National Academy, learning the secret of defying fate and altering destiny. She swore an oath to the starry sky that she would rather her bloodline be severed in this life, in exchange for this defiance of fate. The Radiant Crown Prince’s death was the curse of her defiance, or perhaps divine retribution, or even… something she actively did to complete her defiance of fate.
In those dark rumors, the storytellers seemed to have witnessed the bloody, horrifying scene in the palace with their own eyes—how Her Holiness’s hand reached through the swaddling clothes toward the endlessly crying infant, her beautiful, dignified face utterly expressionless, yet a single tear slid from the corner of her eye. Then the crying gradually ceased, and the night palace fell into a silence that chilled the heart.
If the Radiant Crown Prince’s death was divine retribution from Her Holiness’s defiance of fate, causing her to lose her descendants and die alone, then the Heavenly Dao and the Starry Sea were truly too cold and terrifying. If Her Holiness, to complete her defiance of fate, personally killed her only biological son, choosing to be the solitary ruler of this continent, then she herself was too cold and terrifying.
Regardless of which theory, the Radiant Crown Prince was dead, killed by a cold and terrifying cause, dying innocently and pitifully. After that, no one dared to mention this matter again, neither the Chen Imperial Clan nor the State Religion. Only that mad Director Hu of the Imperial Observatory, even after Zhou Tong had pulled out all his fingernails, still used his bloodstained mouth to ceaselessly tell the world that the Radiant Crown Prince… was not dead. Then, just as Zhou Tong was about to pull out Director Hu’s tongue, Her Holiness the Empress showed her mercy, allowing Director Hu to return to his hometown to recuperate.
But in many people’s eyes, this was not mercy, but guilt, or a kind of self-psychological comfort. What exactly happened in the palace back then? How did the Radiant Crown Prince die? Why would Her Holiness feel guilty? Thus, that cruel and terrifying theory spread even more widely, though still only in the dead of night.
The palace at night was very quiet, yet the early summer night held infinite chill.
The chief eunuch bowed his head, not daring to look at Her Holiness the Empress even once.
The quiet courtyard instantly turned into a cold snowfield. Not a single snowflake was visible, but thin layers of ice gradually formed on the pond’s surface.
When a sage’s thoughts stir heaven and earth, when emotions surge, there are raging waves; when emotions darken, night descends upon the sky; when emotions are low yet violent, wind and snow naturally fill the skies.
Just as the chief eunuch felt that his sea of consciousness was about to freeze and crack, Her Holiness the Empress’s voice finally rang out again. Her voice was calm, faint, like the pond water beneath the thin ice: “The countless people of this world are all my children. Prince Xiang and Prince Xiang are also my children. The Radiant Crown Prince’s life or death has never been important.”
Never been important, so perhaps it had never been important before either.
The chief eunuch lowered his head even further, as if about to touch the cold ground, then gradually retreated into the night.
Outside the garden, a black sheep slowly walked out. Its fur was smooth, black as jade, emerging from the night as if it carried a part of the night with it.
Were all things hidden by the night the truth? Then what about the night itself?
Her Holiness the Empress looked at it expressionlessly and asked, “And you? Why are you willing to get close to him? Who exactly is he?”
Tonight was Chen Changsheng’s first night back at the National Academy. Like those previous nights, after dinner and a walk along the lake, he naturally walked into the library. Luoluo had returned to the Li Palace. Tang Thirty-Six was still at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum. Xuan Yuan Po was smashing trees. Zhe Xiu was still in Zhou Prison. He didn’t know what he should do, so he might as well continue his cultivation.
Starlight passed through the glazed tiles, snowflakes passed through sparse leaves, not lingering on his clothes or skin, but directly entering the depths of his body. The snow layer on the wilderness grew thicker and thicker. The lake outside the Spirit Terrace Mountain, though far from becoming an ocean, had already swelled considerably. The stone gate at the end of the sloping stone path on the mountain was now fully open. Soft, gentle light seeped from the cave dwelling, scattering everywhere in the water, giving a very peaceful feeling.
Now, he naturally no longer felt as bewildered as before, thinking that the starlight he attracted had gone elsewhere. He quietly sensed his own star in the distant starry sky, sensing the changes within his body. Time passed slowly. At some point, he opened his eyes, woke up, and began to sort through the gains of this period.
When he left the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, he was already at the upper level of Penetrating Obscurity. After the journey through the Zhou Garden, encountering so many powerful enemies on the way south, his sword heart had gradually become perfectly integrated, his realm more stable, and he was even faintly approaching the peak of Penetrating Obscurity. Coupled with the time spent with Su Li, his progress in swordsmanship was enormous. Adding these two together, he could be said to be invincible below the Star Gathering realm. Even against those who had just entered the Star Gathering realm, he had a chance to defeat them. This fact brought him some comfort, but he would not relax in the slightest, because he had never forgotten that patch of night.
His time was truly not much. Even if he could be said to be the fastest person in history to reach the peak of Penetrating Obscurity, the distance to the distant Divine Concealment realm was still infinitely far. How much more time would that take? So he had to cherish time. After finishing his meditation, marrow cleansing, and self-observation calculations, he did not pause for a moment but began practicing his sword techniques.
The snowfield and lake within his body showed that he had already accumulated an enormous amount of true essence, far exceeding ordinary cultivators of the same age. The problem was that his meridians were severed, so he could not fully utilize that true essence. The Burning Sword that Su Li taught him could only solve part of the problem, and the cost of using the Burning Sword was too great. With his current realm and cultivation, he could only unleash three strikes at most.
Moreover, the Burning Sword could not be practiced—it harmed the body. The Wisdom Sword could not be practiced either—it harmed the spirit. He could only practice the Clumsy Sword. He stood on the floor, continuously drawing his sword, holding it horizontally, endlessly repeating this simple, monotonous process. It did look somewhat clumsy.
After completing a thousand repetitions, he sat down cross-legged again and channeled his divine sense into the sword sheath.
Inside the world of the sword sheath, ten thousand remnant swords floated quietly in the space, not interfering with each other.
These swords no longer had the might they displayed when they first appeared in the Zhou Garden, but they were once divine swords that shook the continent. Their sword intent was still powerful. The seemingly empty space was already filled with sword intent.
Traveling through ten thousand strands of sword intent with his divine sense was actually a very dangerous thing, especially since he was not trying to use his divine sense to control these ten thousand swords, but directly contacting them with his divine sense.
He wanted to use the sword intent of these ten thousand swords to sharpen his own sword heart.
His sword heart was now perfectly integrated. If anyone knew, they would surely be shocked and amazed, because this was an extremely difficult achievement. The next step would be true Clarity of the Sword Heart. However, achieving Clarity of the Sword Heart required extremely high talent in the way of the sword. Looking across the continent, only a handful of people had truly achieved it.
The problem was that Chen Changsheng had met two people with Clarity of the Sword Heart during this period—Su Li and the girl named First Meeting. So naturally, he could not be satisfied.
Those sword intents were whetstones, and his divine sense was the blade. The sharp or domineering sword intents continuously contacted, rubbed, and cut against his divine sense.
This process was painful. He closed his eyes, did not sweat, but his face gradually turned pale.
A fine blade is honed through grinding; plum blossoms are fragrant from the bitter cold. Without experiencing wind and rain, how can one see a rainbow?
He thought of these proverbs from the ancients, enduring unimaginable suffering, until that strand of divine sense channeled into the sword sheath grew thinner and thinner, weaker and weaker, as if it might dissipate at any moment…
Suddenly, he felt something behind the ten thousand strands of sword intent faintly attracting his divine sense.
The moment he sensed that attraction, the divine sense, which had been weak and dissipating, suddenly became much more stable and grew strong again.
His divine sense traversed the ten thousand strands of sword intent, slowly drifting toward that distant place.
No one knew how much time passed. A light boat finally passed through ten thousand mountains. His divine sense arrived at the other shore of the ocean of sword intent.
The other shore of the ocean of sword intent turned out to be a real shore. On the shore stood a black stone tablet, but it was not a real tablet—only a shadow.
That black stone tablet looked somewhat familiar, like a patch of night.
The moment he saw the black stone tablet, a feeling naturally arose in Chen Changsheng’s heart: this shadow of a stone tablet should be a gate leading to another place.
What world lay beyond that black stone tablet? What lay behind the night? Suddenly, he remembered why this black stone tablet looked familiar. It was not because he saw the night every night, but because this black stone tablet was exactly the same as the black stone of Wang Zhice that he had taken from the Lingyan Pavilion after it transformed back into a Heavenly Book Stele, and also the same as the Heavenly Book Steles around the Zhou Mausoleum.
Could this black stone tablet be a gate to the Zhou Garden? Could the Zhou Garden not have been destroyed?
(There will be a second chapter, but it will be late.)