Chapter 536: The Old Taoist Nun Arrives in the Capital
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Chen Changsheng had long been prepared for the sword intent Su Li had hidden in the envelope. At first, he had even thought to test how long he could withstand it, given that his cultivation had improved significantly since returning to the capital. But he never imagined that the sword intent within the envelope would be so sharp and terrifying—let alone resist it, he dared not even touch it.
Su Li bore him no malice, much less any killing intent. The sword intent that drifted up from the letter paper silently sliced through many things in the kitchen, cutting off a section of his fluttering belt as well. Yet not a single strand of sword intent landed on him; they merely danced around him.
Those sword intents swirled around him like falling leaves, like snowflakes, like droplets of water.
Chen Changsheng felt as if he were standing beneath an autumn tree, under a snowy sky, or beside a waterfall.
He vaguely understood something, gradually relaxed his mind, and released his spiritual sense into this world composed of sword intent.
These sword intents were the letter Su Li had sent him, one of the gifts he had left behind. So, was there anything written on the letter paper?
As he comprehended the sword intent left behind after Su Li’s breakthrough, Chen Changsheng quietly gazed at the letter paper.
Su Li’s handwriting, like his person and his sword, was unrestrained and vigorous, sharp and forthright. His strokes began steeply and ended sharply.
“That you could actually defeat You Rong—this is truly surprising news.”
Seeing the first sentence on the letter paper, Chen Changsheng realized that Su Li’s letter to him came with conditions. The prerequisite was that he must defeat Xu Yourong. If he couldn’t accomplish this, Su Li would surely be disappointed in him, and these two letters might have been left for Xu Yourong… or for Qiushan Jun.
“But thinking that your sword should be considered something I taught, it’s understandable that you could barely defeat You Rong.”
The words Su Li wrote on the letter still perfectly displayed his confidence—or rather, his narcissism.
But then, his tone grew much calmer, much more indifferent.
“In my lifetime, I’ve only taught three people: Qiushan, you, and Qijian. Qiushan is stronger than you; Qijian is weaker than you, and she’s my daughter. After I leave, if something happens to Lishan, help me look after her. As for why I’m leaving? When you’ve lived a few hundred years and find someone who’s been waiting for you for centuries, you might understand.”
“I am the Little Uncle of Lishan. I don’t need to explain anything to the disciples in the mountain. I am Su Li. I don’t need to account to Old Man Yin, Tianhai, or anyone else. But I still want to explain some things, to account for some things, which is why I wrote you this letter.”
“If anyone asks in the future, you can relay my words to them. I haven’t surrendered to this world, but she was right—I am Su Li. Why should I try to be a second Zhou something? Most importantly, you were right. I’ve killed countless people. I hold no love for this world, but perhaps there’s still a shred of goodwill?”
Seeing these words, Chen Changsheng felt a surge of emotion.
In the eyes of many, especially those southerners who resisted the union of north and south, Su Li and the Saintess drifting away together was an extremely irresponsible escape.
Who could understand that for a figure like Su Li, only by clinging to true great wisdom and great courage could he cut open this path of departure?
But when he reached the end of the letter, he suddenly felt that his praise and admiration for Senior Su Li might have been mistaken.
Su Li had written this passage at the end of the letter.
“Tell that wolf cub to give up that idea. If he dares to pester my daughter again, even if I’m on the other side of the Star Sea, I’ll ride a Star Raft back, first cut him down with one sword strike, then cut you down with another, and finally annihilate your National Academy and that wolf tribe settlement up north with a third. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
After reading this, Chen Changsheng thought helplessly, how could someone as free-spirited as Senior Su Li be so hung up on this matter?
Just as he was thinking, the air around him suddenly filled with dense, terrifying, faint sword hums. Countless strands of sword intent returned from all directions and landed on the letter paper.
Those extremely sharp, mysteriously profound sword intents hacked the handwriting on the letter paper into pieces, turning it into countless ink blots that could no longer be read clearly.
Those ink blots finally formed four large characters.
“Burn After Reading.”
Looking at these four characters, Chen Changsheng was momentarily stunned. He thought it would be a pity to burn them like this. After all, the sword intent on this letter paper was an incredibly precious gift for anyone who cultivated the sword. He had even planned to let Tang Thirty-Six and Zhes Xiu come and comprehend it tomorrow.
But since it was Su Li’s instruction, he couldn’t object. Obediently, he threw the letter paper into the stove hole where embers still smoldered and watched as the paper burned to ash.
Looking at the ash in the stove hole and recalling the sword intent on the paper, he suddenly remembered the events of the past few days—the various academies’ martial exercises and the strong cultivators at the initial Gathering Stars realm who had come to challenge the National Academy. The painter from the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion must have used a similar method, though compared to Su Li, it was like mud compared to clouds.
He also recalled the scholar he had seen on the street—Guan Bai of the Heavenly Dao Academy.
At that time, he had glanced at this man through the carriage window and felt a sharp intent pierce his eyes, causing intense pain and nearly making him cry.
Now that he thought about it, this man’s sword cultivation must be so powerful that sword intent had become attached to his body?
At next year’s Boiling Stone Assembly, he would have to face such a powerful sword. Could he overcome it?
…
…
Earlier, Guan Bai had been reading in a bookstore in the southern part of the city.
Suddenly, he sensed something. After a moment of silence, he quietly closed the book and walked out of the bookstore.
After dusk, the snow gradually stopped, but the weather remained bitterly cold. The snow on the streets made travel difficult, so there were few pedestrians.
He stood in the middle of the street.
An old Taoist nun walked toward him.
In truth, the nun’s face still looked relatively young—at least, it was impossible to tell her exact age. But between her brows was a chilling, indifferent air, tinged with a sense of decay.
Guan Bai watched the approaching old Taoist nun without a word.
He didn’t recognize her origins, but he knew that her cultivation level far surpassed his own, perhaps even exceeding that of his master, Zhuang Zhihuan.
Before the Boiling Stone Assembly, he didn’t want any trouble, nor should he fight against such a high-level strong cultivator.
But he had clearly heard earlier that a stray dog had died in an alley not far away.
Just as this old Taoist nun had passed by.
This old Taoist nun was very powerful and must have an extraordinary background. Compared to her, the life of a stray dog blocking the way was indeed insignificant.
Guan Bai thought so too. A stray dog—dead was dead. Could he seek revenge for a stray dog?
The problem was that the stray dog should have died faster.
The old Taoist nun only needed to glance at it, and the stray dog would have been decapitated.
But that stray dog had screamed at least thirty times in the alley, growing more pitiful and weaker each time, until he heard it.
He couldn’t understand why a great figure like this old Taoist nun would use thirty-odd sword strikes to kill a stray dog.
He couldn’t imagine whether this old Taoist nun killed people the same way.
So he walked out of the bookstore and onto the street, wanting to ask her a question.
The old Taoist nun stopped, looking at him expressionlessly.
Guan Bai wanted to say something, but looking into her eyes, he found himself unable to speak.
His hand gripped the sword hilt, but he couldn’t draw the sword.
The old Taoist nun’s eyes were a patch of green, filled with decay and brutality, like a tide of seaweed-laden seawater crashing toward him.
An endless, emerald-green killing intent surged from the snowy street, enveloping his body.
Pfft! A stream of blood sprayed from his mouth, landing on the snow.
…
…
He was the pride of the Heavenly Dao Academy, a sword cultivator of the mid-level on the Carefree List, the renowned Guan Bai.
Yet before this old Taoist nun, he couldn’t utter a single word or draw the sword from its sheath before suffering severe injury.
“State your master’s lineage,” the old Taoist nun said expressionlessly.
Guan Bai’s eyes were filled with shock. Only then did he confirm that this old Taoist nun’s cultivation level far surpassed his master’s, even seeming to transcend the mortal realm and enter the domain of the divine. Recalling the hint of green in her eyes, he instantly guessed who she was.
The Eight Directions Wind and Rain, Boundless Green!
This was already the pinnacle of strength in the human world. Why had she suddenly appeared in the capital tonight?
“Guan Bai of the Heavenly Dao Academy, my master is Zhuang Zhihuan.”
Because of the old Taoist nun’s identity, Guan Bai was deeply shocked, but he showed no fear, staring at her as he spoke.
“For Mao Qiuyu’s sake, I’ll spare your life tonight.”
The old Taoist nun slowly walked past him, her figure gradually disappearing into the night.
After an unknown amount of time, Guan Bai found he could move again. His right hand, gripping the sword hilt, trembled slightly. With a clang, the blade was half-drawn.
Then, his right arm fell from the shoulder, landing on the snow, leaving a large patch of crimson blood.
Tonight in the capital, a stray dog in an alley had been cruelly cut into pieces.
The pride and hope of the Heavenly Dao Academy, the promising young sword cultivator Guan Bai, had lost the right arm that held his sword.
The old Taoist nun who had done these two things felt nothing about them. Her expression remained indifferent, her eyes still brutal.
In her eyes, a young man like Guan Bai and a stray dog in an alley were not much different. If this weren’t the capital of the Great Zhou, where the Pope—whom she had to respect—and the Holy Maiden—whom she dared not provoke—resided, Guan Bai would already be dead.
In her view, sparing Guan Bai’s life was already giving Mao Qiuyu plenty of face. More precisely, this face was given to the National Religion.
There are some people in this world who are so powerful that their view of the world becomes distorted. They think that not taking all the food from a beggar’s bowl is giving the beggar face, and not killing everyone they dislike is giving life face—so others should give them face in return.
The old Taoist nun had come to the capital tonight because she believed the Pope hadn’t given her enough face, so she had come to reclaim it personally.
She had married another of the Eight Directions Wind and Rain when she was very young. From that moment on, she considered her husband her most important face. Later, when she painstakingly gave birth to a son, she considered her son her most important face.
The old Taoist nun stood behind the wall of the National Academy, expressionlessly gazing at the several snow-covered trees extending over the wall.
Dozens of days ago, her son had been humiliated here by someone.
That someone was named Chen Changsheng.
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(This chapter title is better, so I didn’t use “two.” There’s only one chapter today, and no “two” either.) r1148