Chapter 639: But I Prefer Not To
"Why?"
"Six hundred seventy-seven years, three hundred sixty-four days ago, you secretly left the Hundred Herbs Garden to meet with Senior Brother and me. At that time, you said that if we could help the late Emperor ascend the throne, you would act accordingly. Two hundred fourteen years, sixty-nine days ago, the late Emperor's eye ailment worsened, leaving him unable to see, and he decided to have you review memorials on his behalf, asking for Senior Brother's and my opinion. At that time, you said it was only temporary—yet that 'temporary' lasted two hundred fourteen years and sixty-nine days. Twenty years ago, before the late Emperor returned to the sea of stars, you told him you would only rule behind the curtain for one year before returning the throne to the Chen clan. However…"
"Your meaning is that I should follow my original promise and pass the throne to… one of these wastes?"
The Heavenly Sea Holy Mother looked at the fifteen palanquins that had already entered the capital, at the princes of the Chen imperial clan seated upon them, and a mocking smile curled across her face.
"This is an excellent excuse. So-called righteousness for the people does indeed seem more important than a personal promise. And you will also say that you must consider the continued survival of the Heavenly Sea clan."
The Daoist stood in the rain, gazing at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, and said calmly, "But these arguments could have been used twenty years ago. They cannot be used now, because I have already considered everything for you."
The Heavenly Sea Holy Mother withdrew her gaze, turned to the scene in the night, and said, "Then in your view, to whom should I pass the throne?"
That Daoist was within the scene—likely on a street in the southern part of the capital—yet he seemed to appear elsewhere at the same time.
No one could determine his true location, because he had no fixed location. He was like a swallow in the drizzle, seemingly in the rain, or perhaps above it.
He said, "The throne of the Great Zhou should naturally be passed to the only son of Your Majesty and the late Emperor."
Chen Changsheng was right behind the Heavenly Sea Holy Mother, but she did not turn around. She said indifferently, "Pass it to this dying little brat?"
"The late Emperor had many sons, but Your Majesty has only this one. He is the rightful Crown Prince. Within his body flows not only the blood of the Chen imperial clan but also the blood of the Heavenly Sea clan. Once he ascends the throne, he will naturally look after his maternal family. If he inherits the great treasure, I believe the imperial clan will have no objections, nor will the Heavenly Sea clan. Would that not be perfect?"
The Daoist said, "The union of north and south has already succeeded. The Great Zhou dynasty will surely endure for millennia. The only thing that needs to be done is for Your Majesty to abdicate."
Abdicate—just two words.
What a "just."
The Heavenly Sea Holy Mother stared quietly at the Daoist in the rain.
That Daoist stood silently in the rain, saying no more, for he had nearly finished what he needed to say. And he believed that this conversation between them had already been heard by the entire continent.
For some unknown reason, the Heavenly Sea Holy Mother suddenly laughed. Her laughter was extremely open and free, yet carried a strong note of mockery.
"From more than two years ago, when you sent him to the capital, until now, you seem to have been doing one thing: making me see him."
Chen Changsheng sat on the ground, looking at her tall silhouette, listening to these words, and realized that it did seem to be true.
Whether it was the engagement with the Eastern Divine General's Mansion, the new student at the National Academy, the Ivy Banquet, or the declaration on the Divine Path—many events in the past period of time now seemed designed to make him grow faster and to appear before Her Majesty the Holy Mother as early as possible.
Many things had been driven by Archbishop Melisandre, but behind her, there must have been the shadow of that Daoist.
"Seeing him stirs curiosity, stirs a desire to investigate, stirs suspicion."
The Heavenly Sea Holy Mother clasped her hands behind her back and spoke slowly to the Daoist in the rain, to the world in the rain: "He is like an unripe fruit, cultivated and ripened by you, watched quietly by me, until finally, when he is about to ripen, he emits a fruity fragrance, is smelled by others, and gives rise to the desire to devour him."
"To the entire world, this fruit is extremely tempting. To me, even more so."
The Heavenly Sea Holy Mother turned her head and glanced at Chen Changsheng, saying, "If I devour him, it would be the most perfect cycle of heaven's way, the most flawless conclusion to this karmic cause and effect."
She turned to face the entire world in the rainy night, a mocking smile curling at the corner of her lips: "But… I prefer not to."
The entire world fell silent. Whether at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum or in the capital, only the sound of fine rain falling on the ground could be heard.
She continued, "This Longevity Fruit might help mortals become immortals, but I imagine it would only bring me harm."
Finally, with a hint of regret, she sighed and said, "An immortal bestowed upon me a Longevity Fruit… but unfortunately, you are not immortals. You are merely humans."
Merely humans.
Merely.
…
…
Within the Divine Kingdom, there was a garden. In the garden, there was a tree. On the tree hung a fruit.
That fruit contained an immensely abundant life force. Whoever devoured it would transcend the mundane and gain unimaginable spiritual experiences and rewards.
This was a legend—a legend from the Holy Light Continent.
The people of this world should not have heard of it, but he had.
That monk from afar slowly raised his head by the stream, gazing toward the distant capital. A solemn look appeared in his clear, bright eyes.
…
…
The Daoist stood in the night rain, still calm, but no one knew his true emotions at that moment.
The surrounding streets and alleys were quiet. In this deep night, people were still asleep. Only he was awake—but was he truly clear-headed?
Since he had appeared out of the night rain, not a single raindrop had fallen on his Daoist robe. But now, there were water droplets in his hair, crystal clear.
Yes, that Longevity Fruit was a trap, or rather, a scheme.
Aside from the Western Flow Scripture hidden behind the entire affair, there was nothing too mysterious about it. It was simple, not complicated.
From the moment he had set this scheme twenty years ago, he had been fully aware of this fact.
This scheme could not be too complicated, for it involved the subtle workings of heaven's way. And the more complex a scheme, the more likely it would arouse the vigilance of someone at the level of the Heavenly Sea Holy Mother.
But he believed that, aside from certain deities on that distant continent, no one could see through the problem with the Longevity Fruit—not even the Heavenly Sea Holy Mother.
And he believed that the Longevity Fruit was an irresistible temptation to anyone, especially to her.
This was a killing scheme that aligned with heaven's way. There was no reason for it to fail.
Yet the Heavenly Sea Holy Mother did not fall into the trap.
She had not seen through the problem with the Longevity Fruit. She was simply acting according to her own will.
Did she want to devour the Longevity Fruit? Of course.
But she understood: those people had spent countless efforts and twenty years to bring him before her. On the surface, they had used the Western Flow Scripture to cut three years from his age, making it seem as if they did not want her to know who he was. But how could those people not know that she would inevitably discover his identity? So, they wanted her to devour him.
The entire world was quietly waiting for her to devour him.
The entire world was prepared to watch her devour her own biological son.
And so, she would not devour him.
Even if this fruit had no problems, even if devouring it might truly allow her to transcend life and death and enter a state of true freedom, she still would not devour him.
Not out of caution or vigilance, but out of loyalty to her own will.
She was her will.
Her will was: when the entire world wanted her to do something, she absolutely would not do it.
…
…
Behind the old temple in Xining Town.
That monk vaguely understood something. He turned his head slightly and looked upstream of the small stream.
The night was deep. The desolate town had no lights, and everything around was pitch black.
But in his eyes, the surrounding scenery was still as bright as day. He could see fish quietly floating in the crevices of the rocks, and petals drifting slowly with the current.
The petals floated to his bare feet, slowly spinning.
He smiled and let out a sigh.
There was some regret, but no disappointment.
…
…
"Either longevity, or eternal descent into the abyss—this is a gamble. Your refusal to devour him does not mean your vision can see through the supreme heavenly way. It only means you are afraid."
The Daoist standing in the night rain was not disappointed either, for this was only the beginning.
He said, "You know this is a heavenly scheme. Your opponent is not me, but heaven's way itself. That is why you dare not enter the game."
Hearing this, the Heavenly Sea Holy Mother raised an eyebrow slightly, like a phoenix about to take flight.
"Since you harbor fear toward heaven's way, are you not afraid of its backlash?"
The Daoist looked at her calmly and said, "Do not forget that when you made your blood oath to the starry sky back then, I was also present."
"Even if heaven's way descends, the one who will die is him."
The Heavenly Sea Holy Mother said calmly, "I will watch him die with my own eyes, ensuring no accidents occur."
The Daoist said with emotion, "You truly are still the most cold-blooded and heartless person in this world."
The Heavenly Sea Holy Mother replied, "Likewise."
The two seemed to be speaking face to face, but in reality, they were separated by dozens of miles. Sometimes, it even felt as if they were thousands of miles apart.
Because the Daoist's position in this world remained elusive, impossible to determine.
Chen Changsheng also did not know his own position in this world.
He had once thought he was the young Daoist from the old temple in Xining Town, a student of his master. But now, he discovered that he was merely a fruit.
If he could be devoured, he had some value. If not, he would be ignored, left to ripen, fall, and turn to dust.
He was the biological son of the Heavenly Sea Holy Mother, yet she watched him die so calmly.
Logically speaking, the two people speaking before the entire world at this moment should have been his closest kin.
One was his biological mother. The other was his master, who had raised him.
Yet, as they spoke, they did not even glance at him.
When it came to cold-bloodedness and heartlessness, who could understand it more deeply and profoundly than he did tonight?
That feeling—indifferent, desolate, yet somehow laughable—what was it?
It was bone-piercing.
A bone-piercing pain erupted from every part of his body in an extremely short time.
With a few faint sounds of tearing air, the golden needles at his neck were blasted away, embedding themselves deep into the stone slabs.
Blood, containing boundless energy, surged like a flood through his internal organs.
The remaining true qi rampaged wildly through his severed meridians, ceaselessly attacking his bones and flesh.
Cracks like spiderwebs began to appear on his internal organs.
His face turned pale.
He was in agony.
He was dying.