Chapter 98: Before the Eyes, Only Night
On the long journey southward, Xu Yourong periodically cast the Holy Light Technique on Chen Changsheng, isolating his aura from the world.
When they passed through Beishan Commandery, she transfused blood to him twice in succession.
She had already expended too much of her mind, her true essence, and her most precious Phoenix True Blood and Holy Light.
Moreover, on the Cold Mountain, she had taken the full force of that Heavenly Dao Sword to save Chen Changsheng, suffering no light injuries.
Yet she still could not rest.
At this moment, she stood quietly in the Hall of Light because it allowed her to recover faster, especially by replenishing her Holy Light.
And here, she was closest to that place, separated only by a single wall. If anything happened, she could shatter that wall in the shortest possible time and rush over.
Right now, the Pope and Chen Changsheng were speaking in there.
The stars filled the sky, and the capital seemed bathed in silvery, watery light. Deep within the Li Palace, eaves jutted out everywhere, preserving a greater share of the night.
Chen Changsheng lifted the blanket but did not rise from the wheelchair.
He lowered his head, carefully folded the blanket into a neat square, then looked up at the Pope and asked, "Uncle-Master, who am I, really?"
He had asked this question of the Heavenly Fortune Elder before.
The Heavenly Fortune Elder’s answer to him had been certain, but not precise enough.
The Pope gazed at him silently for a long time. Just as Chen Changsheng began to think that, like the previous times, he would still not get an accurate answer, the Pope slowly spoke: "At the very beginning, when I received your master’s letter, I thought you were a junior disciple coming to the capital for treatment. Treating illness is cultivating the self, and you cultivated by following your heart’s intent, so I did not show myself."
Hearing this, Chen Changsheng recalled the events that had occurred shortly after he first entered the capital two and a half years ago. He vaguely understood that his master’s letter must have arrived in the capital before he entered the National Academy.
The Pope walked behind him and pushed the wheelchair deeper into the hall. On either side of the stone steps were ramps carved with flowing cloud patterns. The wheels rolled over them, producing a rhythmic creaking sound, much like the Pope’s voice at this moment—calm yet tinged with a sense of emotion. "It wasn’t until later, when Merisa found me, that I realized he too had received a letter."
The night hall was very quiet. The clear water in the pond reflected the starlight, while mottled, pure light scattered across the stone walls and pillars. The lush green leaves of a potted plant swayed gently, beautiful to the point of being almost eerie.
"To be honest, even now, I don’t know what your master truly intends to do."
The Pope released the wheelchair, walked to the edge of the pond, picked up a wooden ladle, scooped up half a ladle of water, and began to water the green plant.
Starlight fell through the glazed tiles of the hall’s roof, landing on the Pope’s linen robes as if inscribing countless incomprehensible runes.
Chen Changsheng watched his slightly hunched figure and, after a moment of silence, asked, "If you don’t know what he wants to do, then why do you help him?"
"I know very well that what you most want to know is why your master sent you to the capital… if you truly are Crown Prince Zhaoming."
The clear water from the wooden ladle fell into the pot with a splashing sound, which did not drown out the Pope’s voice but rather served as a kind of background.
"What your master has wanted to do all his life is simple: to invite Tianhai down from the imperial throne, or rather, to drive her down, and restore the throne to the Chen clan. I think… his sending you to the capital must have some consideration in this regard. By now, I have vaguely guessed your master’s intentions, but I still cannot be certain."
"Back then, in the bloodbath at the National Academy, it was said that you, Uncle-Master, personally killed my master. Now it seems, of course, that wasn’t true."
The Pope’s voice was as gentle and pleasant as flowing water: "Your master and I were the only two orthodox successors of the National Religion. How could I bear to kill him? Besides, although he was severely wounded by Tianhai in the imperial palace back then, killing him would not have been so easy for me… I originally thought this matter would remain hidden forever, but I never expected you to come to the capital."
Chen Changsheng said, "Because I came to the capital, because of my master’s letter, because you took care of me, Her Holiness the Empress could easily find out that my master is still alive."
"It is said that the Heavenly Fortune Elder can fathom the Heavenly Dao, and it is said that the Black Robe’s schemes are unmatched. But in truth, your master is the true strategist. Not to mention his real purpose in sending you to the capital, simply by deliberately letting Tianhai know that he is still alive, he has torn a rift between me and Tianhai—and that rift will only grow wider."
"Since this rift cannot be mended, the suspicion between you and Her Holiness the Empress will eventually turn into hostility."
"Yes. Once there is hostility, once one perceives the other’s hostility, then when they stand face to face, they become enemies."
"Doesn’t this mean that my master is using the kindness you once showed him to force you to stand on his side?"
Chen Changsheng looked at the Pope’s back and found it growing more stooped, more like that of a weary old man. His voice unconsciously dropped, mirroring his mood at that moment.
Yet the Pope’s voice remained calm: "I told you, your master is the true strategist. In his view, to achieve his goal, anything can be sacrificed."
Hearing this, Chen Changsheng’s mood grew even heavier. He asked, "Why must it be this way?"
The Pope released the handle of the wooden ladle, picked up a dry towel beside the pot, and wiped his hands. "Back then, your master and I fell out because we had different views of this world. Now, your master uses every means to force me to his side, yet I can accept it calmly because time has changed many things. My view of this world and Tianhai’s are no longer the same."
Chen Changsheng recalled the conversation they had in this night hall after he emerged from the Heavenly Book Mausoleum.
"I now also believe that Tianhai should abdicate."
The Pope’s voice rang out in the night hall. It was not loud, yet it seemed as if a thunderclap had sounded in the distant heights of the night sky.
The hall fell silent, except for the sound of water from the wooden ladle, suspended in midair, pouring into the pot of green leaves.
No one knew how much time passed before Chen Changsheng spoke again: "And what about me? What role am I playing? Why have you and Archbishop Merisa taken such care of me these past two years?"
"I can only guess at your master’s thoughts. Merisa probably knows a bit more, but you must believe that this old man, who has now returned to the sea of stars, would never wish you harm. His thoughts are not entirely the same as your master’s. He insists that, in this process, you will suffer much harm, but you will also gain much benefit."
"Benefit?"
"Merisa believes that only through this method can your illness be cured."
"Can my illness be cured?" Chen Changsheng’s voice trembled slightly.
The Pope walked to the wheelchair, looked into his eyes, and said in a voice as calm as water: "Even fate can be changed, so why not just an illness?"
Chen Changsheng’s emotions quickly settled. He looked at the Pope seriously and asked, "Uncle-Master, you have known about my illness for a long time."
The Pope said, "Yes."
Chen Changsheng’s expression grew even more serious. "Then, do you also know about that matter?"
This was the deepest part of the Li Palace, the most secluded, even dim, with only the glazed tiles on the roof letting in some starlight.
He sat in the wheelchair, the woolen blanket folded into a neat square and placed beside his leg, his clothes thin.
Time passed, the stars shifted. The brightest star in the night sky, the Dragon Horse Star, had somehow moved above the night hall. Starlight filtered through the glazed tiles and fell upon him.
The starlight was softer than snowflakes, falling silently. Yet, for some reason, there seemed to be a faint hissing sound, as if something had been ignited.
It was Chen Changsheng, using the starlight to ignite the meager starlight essence still lingering in his body.
The meridians in his body were all broken. Whether it was the true essence generated from the Nether Palace or the Snow Plain, it had nowhere to flow and was colliding everywhere.
Soon, his body grew hot. The face and neck exposed outside his clothes, including his hands, turned somewhat red.
To the eye, it was a light pink, but inside his body, it was blood red, because it meant he was bleeding internally.
As his body temperature rose higher, his skin grew redder, shifting from a deceptive appearance of health to an eerie, ghostly hue. At the same time, an extremely faint aura emanated from the countless pores on his body’s surface and from his five senses, drifting on the night breeze until it reached the Pope.
The Pope’s expression suddenly changed. The endless starry expanse in his deep eyes transformed in an instant into a violent galaxy.
In those eyes, no trace of benevolence could be seen any longer—only a powerful indifference and a cold, unyielding will.