Chapter 112: Facing Death to Live, Part 1
The night breeze stirred, emanating from enormous black wings that scattered all holiness and light, blocking all sight and perception, representing the purest darkness and power.
"The young phoenix's song surpasses the old... but that is a matter for the future."
The Holy Maiden Empress looked at Xu Yourong in her hands, her expression blank.
No one could enter this night, except those she permitted, such as that flash of red.
Mo Yu knelt outside the hall, head bowed, not daring to glance inside.
"Send her back to Saintess Peak. Release her only after confirming Chen Changsheng's death."
Hearing the Holy Maiden Empress's voice, Mo Yu finally dared to raise her head, wanting to say something, but in the end, she said nothing.
The green bamboo carriage was prepared, and the black sheep ambled back from somewhere.
The Holy Maiden Empress glanced at the black sheep, nodded after a moment of silence.
The wheels rolled over the bluestone slabs, slowly heading into the night beyond the palace.
Mo Yu sat in her seat, looking at the unconscious Xu Yourong in her arms, and suddenly felt a pang of sadness.
She was sad for Xu Yourong, and also sad for Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng seemed doomed.
Actually, she was a little sad too.
She hadn't been to the National Academy in a long time, hadn't seen Chen Changsheng, and she had no standing or reason to go. Even if Chen Changsheng died, she had no reason to grieve. Thinking of this, she felt even sadder.
The green bamboo carriage seemed slow but was incredibly swift, carrying an indescribable strangeness. Though there were few pedestrians on the night streets, many cavalry and experts were searching for Chen Changsheng or trying to protect him, yet not one noticed this carriage.
It didn't take long for the green bamboo carriage to leave the capital through the South Gate and head onto the official road leading to Saintess Peak.
Almost as soon as they left the capital, Xu Yourong opened her eyes.
It wasn't that she was hiding some trick; it was the Holy Maiden Empress's will.
She opened her eyes but couldn't move a single finger.
Because in her waterfall-like black hair, a hairpin was slanted, seemingly casually inserted.
Or rather, it was a wooden hairpin.
Third on the Hundred Weapons List, Little Phoenix Wooden Sword.
Xu Yourong couldn't move, but she could speak.
Yet she clearly had no mood to talk at the moment, simply staring quietly at the carriage roof, her gaze piercing through to somewhere among the stars.
"Everyone has their own fate. His fate is bad; what can be done?" Mo Yu said to her with pity.
Xu Yourong withdrew her gaze and looked at her, saying, "I don't think he will die."
Mo Yu naturally knew Chen Changsheng's current physical condition, thinking that even if the Pope could keep him from being killed by Her Majesty, how many more days could he live?
Xu Yourong seemed to have figured out something very important, saying calmly, "In the end, it's his own fate; it should run according to his own thoughts. I wanted to isolate him from this world, but he insisted on going back. The Heavenly Dao wants him to die, yet he goes toward death to live."
"Toward death to live?"
"Do you remember Divine General Hanqing back then?"
"I remember."
"His Majesty the Taizong Emperor said that those who face death to live are hard to kill."
...
...
Chen Changsheng hadn't considered the question of life and death; he had already cast it aside.
He left the palace and arrived at a very secluded place, or rather, a very ordinary place.
The Plum Garden Inn outside the Heavenly Book Mausoleum.
He had stayed here for quite a while back then, truly getting to know Tang Thirty-Six here.
This inn held great meaning for him; it was the start of his life in the capital. Now he returned here, first considering that no one would think he'd come here, and also wanting the final fragment of his capital life to begin here as well.
He didn't know that shortly after he left the palace, a green bamboo carriage had departed, with Xu Yourong inside.
He didn't know that at this moment, his senior brother Yu Ren was in the Heavenly Book Mausoleum across the river, reading by starlight.
On this night, the two most important people in his life had both been close to him, but he didn't know it then. His mind and spirit were focused on his body, the pills and magical artifacts he carried, the various techniques in his sea of consciousness, and the countless swords in his sheath.
He sat under the tree in the small courtyard, beginning to sort through his cultivation situation under the starlight.
Because his meridians were completely shattered, his current true essence output was even weaker than two years ago, inferior even to an ordinary Meditation Realm cultivator. But the starlight scattered through his flesh and blood was like snow in the mountains—seeming scattered here and there, yet the total amount was enormous. Moreover, although his breakthrough to gather stars at Cold Mountain had gone wrong, it couldn't be called a complete failure. On the surface, his realm remained at the peak of the Thorough Light Realm, but if he didn't care about his meridians shattering again and endangering his life, he could condense starlight into a domain in a very short time.
In other words, if he didn't care about dying, he could briefly become a Gather Stars Initial Realm expert with an immense amount of true essence.
He also knew countless sword techniques, movement techniques, and Daoist arts.
After entering the upper Thorough Light Realm, most of the opponents he encountered were already Gather Stars Realm experts. The simplified Yashiki Steps that had helped him many times before were no longer of much use; the speed boost from the movement technique compared to his own speed was minimal. Similarly, ordinary sword techniques like the Hundred Flowers Sword and Seven Stars Sword might occasionally be useful in battles of the same rank, but in tonight's fight, they were useless and could be discarded.
He calmed his mind, removing those miscellaneous and imprecise sword techniques and Daoist arts, leaving only the hardest, sharpest, and most powerful methods in his sea of consciousness: the Zhongshan Wind and Rain Sword, the National Religion True Sword, the Inverted Mountain Staff, the Radiant Light Sword, the Wenshui Three Styles, the Scorching Heaven Sword, the Broken Army Sword... and the three swords Su Li had taught him.
The Burning Sword, the Wisdom Sword, the Foolish Sword.
These were Chen Changsheng's most powerful methods now.
For true masters of the sword path, sword techniques themselves might not have high or low distinctions, but they certainly had scope.
The sword techniques Chen Changsheng excelled at were all grand swords, especially the three Su Li taught him—no matter how they changed, their momentum was immense.
Grand swords, or ultimate techniques, consumed a great deal of divine sense and true essence. Chen Changsheng's divine sense was extremely stable and powerful, and his true essence quantity was large, but output had always been a problem, so he couldn't sustain long battles. In many past fights, he would strive to end them as quickly as possible, only being forced into grueling situations like the final match of the Grand Examination or the chaos around Xunyang City. In truth, those battles were extremely bitter, and he had nearly lost several times.
Tonight, with his severe injuries unhealed, forcibly mobilizing true essence to act meant he absolutely couldn't fall into such a situation; he had to succeed in one strike.
He opened his eyes, looked at the stars in the night sky, and began to deduce and calculate.
That person's background wasn't poor; his birth mother was a concubine of the former Minister of Rites. His childhood had no unbearable tragic experiences—no lack of food or clothing, no humiliation from a legitimate mother. Though his imperial examinations weren't particularly smooth, they weren't unusual either. That person's temperament was extremely cold and brutal, his strength terrifying, his divine sense exceptionally powerful, as if gathering the resentment of countless people and boundless suffering. Chen Changsheng had experienced it before; it was indeed beyond ordinary people's resistance...
Countless data and information appeared in his sea of consciousness, like the stars in the night sky—countless, seemingly chaotically gathered, impossible to analyze for useful information. Yet connections existed between the stars; countless invisible lines wove into a star map, naturally hiding the true meaning.
After who knows how long, he rose and walked out of the Plum Garden Inn.
The Stainless Sword still lay quietly in the Concealed Sword Sheath, but he had already drawn his sword.
...
...
The green bamboo carriage headed south along the official road. The black sheep in front likely didn't understand the turmoil in the capital; it had just been cooped up in the palace too long and wanted to go out for a stroll. It didn't find the autumn trees by the roadside novel, but showed some interest in the newly formed dewdrops on the grass. It stopped and started like this, seeming slow, yet within the time it took to drink a cup of tea after leaving the palace, the carriage had already passed Mount Xiao. By the afternoon, it should reach Saintess Peak.
Tianhai Shengou's gaze followed Mount Xiao eastward to the plain at the mountain's end. In the center of the plain stood a great city, its walls extremely thick and tall, visually even more majestic and spectacular than the capital—the famous Luoyang.
In the best-positioned Changle Ward of Luoyang was a prince's mansion of absurdly vast size and unimaginable luxury. The Prince of Xiang, the Prince of Tai... several of her nominal sons and a few grandchildren were there, indulging with singing girls. She didn't know if they were putting on a show for her or their officials, and she didn't care.
She withdrew her gaze to the capital, seeing the old man watering plants in the detached palace, the relatives in the manor, the unburned candles in the Little Orange Garden, the snow beneath the North New Bridge, the crabapple tree in the North Military Command Alley, and the young man holding an umbrella heading that way.
She stood on the Sweet Dew Terrace, the entire world beneath her feet, within her sight, yet she didn't see that person.
Over a decade ago, she thought that person had died, but unexpectedly, he had survived. From the day she confirmed this fact, a rift had appeared between her and the Pope. The rest of the world was utterly unaware of it. The wind and rain in the capital had been as gentle as in the past decade, but things were no longer the same.
She knew very well that person had sent Chen Changsheng to the capital deliberately to leak information, to sow suspicion between her and the Pope. But she could only accept it, because time couldn't be reversed. That incident at the National Academy had indeed happened, and the Pope couldn't believe she had no opinion on it.
From their first meeting at the Hundred Herb Garden, she hadn't liked that person—in fact, she could say she loathed him—and she hadn't thought much of him. It wasn't until she learned that he was not only Shang Xingzhou but also Ji Daoren that she began to take him seriously. Some things she hadn't understood before finally had answers.
The name Shang Xingzhou represented the orthodox National Religion and those old friends who opposed her.
The name Ji Daoren represented the will of the Taizong Emperor, or rather, his last wishes.
This was the true reason she had become vigilant.