Chapter 8: The Compass of Fate
At five years old, her innate bloodline awakened, and she began cultivation. She seemed to casually pick a star as her destiny star, yet that star’s brightness ranked among the top three in a century. A few years later, she completed her studies at the Thirteen Departments of Qing Yao, and the Southern Holy Maiden personally came to the capital, taking her back to Southern Creek Academy from the hands of the Pope and Her Holiness the Empress.
When she arrived at Southern Creek Academy, her cultivation level still lingered at the Sitting Illumination Realm, yet she had already begun interpreting the Heavenly Book Stele. From those notes, it was clear she truly understood the stele.
He and she were the youngest to reach the Upper Penetrating Mystery Realm in history, but he relied on fortuitous encounters and the true blood of the Black Dragon, while she depended entirely on her innate bloodline and comprehension.
Like Autumn Mountain Lord, she encountered no obstacles in her path of cultivation—whatever she wished to learn, she mastered.
Whether in true essence quantity, spiritual perception strength, or Dao techniques and skills, she far surpassed her peers.
She was a true phoenix.
Chen Changsheng remained silent for a long time, harboring no confidence for the battle seven days hence.
Now many called him a genius of cultivation, especially in the way of the sword, but after reading Xu Yourong’s life, he understood what true genius meant.
Just as Tang Thirty-Six had said last year at Plum Garden Inn, Xu Yourong was simply beyond words.
Yet, as Tang Thirty-Six also said, this battle had to proceed. He represented the National Academy and the Divine Palace. Even if he was outmatched, even if he didn’t want to fight, he had to fight first and talk later.
He stood up and walked to the wardrobe, intending to grab a new towel to wash his face.
He was a frugal person, but he indulged himself in this one area: whenever a major event occurred, he would wash himself thoroughly and choose a new towel.
Opening the wardrobe door, he froze in place, realizing one towel was missing.
Dozens of towels were neatly stacked, and aside from himself, probably no one could tell one was gone.
That night, Xu Yourong had taken a towel to wipe the snow off the table.
He stood quietly before the wardrobe for a long time.
For some reason, he ultimately didn’t take a towel. He slowly closed the wardrobe door, walked back to the window, and gazed toward the nearby imperial palace.
She should be in the palace now, right?
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The Great Zhou imperial palace housed many halls, but only the palace elders remembered that one hall was reserved specifically for Xu Yourong.
That hall was somewhat remote, very quiet, and had an especially fine garden with a stunning view from the window.
The Empress had decided this over a decade ago. Later, when Xu Yourong went to Holy Maiden Peak, the Peace Princess wanted to move into that hall but never succeeded.
Xu Yourong was now sitting in that hall. Outside the window, light snow drifted, and tree branches were frosted with white—a beautiful scene—but she had no mood to enjoy it.
Her gaze fell on the fate compass before her.
Her fingers gently slid across the compass’s surface. With her movements, the complex lines and patterns on the surface shifted, gathering and dispersing like flowing water, elusive like drifting clouds, sometimes even resembling heavenly script.
Those lines, following different trajectories, represented countless conditions. At this specific moment, they represented the history of the state religion, the legacy of the Divine Palace, the past of the National Academy, Shang Xingzhou, the Pope, Su Li, the rumored senior brother, Tang Thirty-Six, Cheng Hu Tower, and countless pieces of information related to Chen Changsheng—naturally including his most skilled sword techniques.
As the night deepened, she still gazed quietly at the fate compass, performing deductions and calculations.
It wasn’t until much later that the snow outside gradually stopped, the clouds in the night sky dispersed, and starlight fell on the snow covering the palace grounds, reflecting into the room and finally landing on the fate compass.
She stood up, clasped her hands behind her back, and walked out of the hall.
The fate compass remained still on the table. Under the starlight, the moving lines and patterns gradually came to a halt.
It was a star chart.
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Such events repeated for six full days in the palace and the National Academy.
Chen Changsheng was surrounded by piles of paper, covered in data and sentences. He was so busy he didn’t even have time to bathe, yet he kept calculating, growing more tired but increasingly confident.
Xu Yourong also continuously used the fate compass for deduction and calculation, ultimately obtaining seventeen star charts. Each chart inevitably pointed toward victory.
The atmosphere in the capital grew livelier, while the atmosphere in the palace and the National Academy grew tenser.
Because many had seen how long Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong had prepared for this battle and how much effort they had invested.
Six days passed, and then came the seventh day—the day the battle began.
Not long after morning, the rest of the capital fell silent as countless citizens headed toward Luo River.
The battlefield for Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong was at Nai He Bridge, over the Luo River. In everyone’s eyes, this was the most suitable venue.
Not because Nai He Bridge was a scenic spot worthy of a battle destined to be recorded in history, but because of its location.
West of Nai He Bridge lay the Divine Palace, east lay the imperial palace, equidistant from both.
Choosing this place as the battlefield was undoubtedly meaningful and fair.
Xu Yourong had been staying in the palace and would likely emerge from it later, but Chen Changsheng wasn’t departing from the Divine Palace—he left from the National Academy. As usual, he woke at the fifth hour, calmed his mind for a moment, opened his eyes, ate two large bowls of beef noodles under Xuan Yuan Po’s eager gaze, and with Su Mo Yu’s help, put on the National Academy uniform. Whether it was the length of the collar exposed from the outer robe or the height difference between the hem and his shoes, everything perfectly met the strictest standards.
Tang Thirty-Six did nothing but stand nearby, holding a toothpick and constantly picking his teeth while complaining that today’s beef wasn’t stewed tender enough.
The gates of the National Academy slowly opened. Accompanied by Tang Thirty-Six and others, along with the new students, Chen Changsheng walked through Hundred Flowers Lane, onto the main street, and under countless gazes, headed toward the Luo River.
At some point, Tang Thirty-Six had acquired a bowl of soy milk and two fried dough sticks.
Priest Xin, waiting on the street, watched this scene and shook his head helplessly. “At such a tense moment, you still haven’t forgotten this.”
Tang Thirty-Six said, “What’s there to be tense about? It’s just a matter of victory or defeat, not life or death. Besides, good food always trumps life and death.”
For some reason, hearing these words calmed Chen Changsheng’s emotions considerably.
But today, the entire capital was destined to remain unsettled.
News of Chen Changsheng leaving the National Academy spread swiftly through the capital with the chilly winter wind.
“Chen Changsheng has left Hundred Flowers Lane.”
“The National Academy students are accompanying him.”
“The Divine Palace people have received him.”
“They’ve reached Ink Pool.”
“Passed through Heavenly Connection Garden.”
“Chen Changsheng is about to arrive at Returning Dragon View.”
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