Chapter 647: In the End, You Are Nothing
Whether it was the Mausoleum of Books or the streets of the capital, all had fallen into a deathly silence.
Countless people stared in shock, their mouths agape, unable to speak. They thought they had misheard, or perhaps the howling night wind had suddenly grown fiercer, making it hard to catch the words clearly?
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress's eyes were beautiful, bright as stars, truly like the eyes of a phoenix.
A glint of light flashed through her pupils, a faint ripple of divine thought.
She gazed toward a certain spot in the Mausoleum of Books, not seeing it clearly, yet perceiving everything with perfect clarity.
That feeling still existed. It had always been there. So this was where it was.
Crack! Several bolts of lightning, thick as great trees, struck down from the night sky, landing around the summit of the Mausoleum of Books, illuminating every scene with blinding clarity.
Dark clouds churned wildly in the night dome, twisting and writhing as if countless dragons were locked in battle within them, as if the celestial mechanism was about to shift, as if the will of heaven was about to descend.
An extremely faint aura seeped from the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress's body, drifting ethereally upward, piercing through the layered clouds, returning to the depths of the star-filled sky now invisible to the naked eye.
She lifted her head to look at the heavens, her expression indifferent, speaking not a single word.
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"What does this mean?"
"Is Chen Changsheng not the Holy Empress's son with the late Emperor?"
"Then he isn't the Crown Prince Zhao Ming?"
With that one sentence from Ji Daoist, the entire capital was plunged into boundless shock.
When the rumor first began last year, few believed it. But too many things had happened since then, forcing people to accept it. The most crucial point was the attitude of the National Church and the Holy Empress herself.
For his sake, the court and the National Church had been locked in confrontation after confrontation, the two great powers on the verge of a decisive battle this very night. The Holy Empress had not hesitated to lower her cultivation realm, all to reverse his fate, break the blood oath from years past, and perfect her own heart. But if he was not the Crown Prince Zhao Ming, then everything the Holy Empress had done—wasn't it all meaningless?
The most shocked person, of course, was Chen Changsheng himself.
A strength born from nowhere allowed him to struggle to his feet. Using his sword scabbard to prop himself up, he gazed toward the capital in the darkness.
He wanted to see where his master truly was. He wanted to know what his master's words really meant.
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress did not turn around, nor did she pay him any attention.
The silence between heaven and earth stretched on for a long time.
His face grew paler and paler, his youthful brows and eyes filled with a dazed confusion.
Was this real?
So it had all been false.
Suddenly, he understood.
Yes, everything was false.
When falsehood is taken for truth, truth becomes falsehood.
His master had spun a colossal lie, deceiving the entire world.
Both the Holy Empress and himself had been deceived.
The Scroll of Time might truly be able to shorten time, but that didn't mean it had to fall upon him.
The Western Flow Canon could change many things, yet it could not change the fact that the great river ultimately flows westward.
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In a very short span of time, Chen Changsheng had figured out many things—indeed, almost everything.
Those things had once puzzled him, puzzled Tang Thirty-Six, puzzled Xu Yourong, and had also been their hidden concern.
Yes, if he truly was the Crown Prince Zhao Ming, how could his master have allowed him to enter the capital and appear before the Holy Empress's eyes like this?
In the spring two and a half years ago, he had left Xining Town and arrived in the capital.
He failed to break off the engagement, failed to gain entry into the Green Ivy Six Academies, and ended up in the abandoned National Academy. Regardless of whether the Pope knew at the time, or whether the document Mo Yu held had any connection to it, looking back now, he was bound to enter the National Academy. Because his master was the former dean of the National Academy, and being there made it easier for people to make that connection.
Did the Pope know about this from the start? Probably not. What about Archbishop Melisande? He must have known.
That aged archbishop, sitting in the plum-blossom-filled room of the Ecclesiastical Office, shielded the National Academy from wind and rain, and built bridges and cleared paths for Chen Changsheng. He allowed Chen Changsheng to grow and mature at an unimaginable speed. He declared on the Divine Path that Chen Changsheng would take the top rank in the Grand Examination. He made Chen Changsheng stand out like a tree in the forest, basking in infinite glory on the perilous peak.
All of this was only to make him more conspicuous, to make the Holy Empress discover him faster, take notice of him, then grow suspicious of him, and begin investigating.
Because he was Chen Changsheng, the orthodox heir of the National Church, the dean of the National Academy, a cultivation prodigy, the successor of the National Church—he was the Crown Prince Zhao Ming.
Of course, all of this was false.
He was nothing.
He was a fruit.
Just a fruit.
A fruit born with poison.
From the moment of his birth, his fate had already been arranged: to be eaten by someone once he was ripe.
This was his destiny.
When his fate came to an end with time, and everything calmed down, the true heir of the Great Zhou Dynasty would step onto the stage and take over everything.
Who was that person? His master? The Pope? Or… the real Crown Prince Zhao Ming?
Chen Changsheng should have felt sorrow at this moment, but he did not.
He was already numb.
He stared blankly at the world below the Mausoleum of Books.
If everything was false, then what was real?
Suddenly, he missed that old temple in Xining Town. He wanted to go back, to pretend he had never come to the capital, that he was still babbling with his senior brother by the stream…
Senior brother… did he know about all this?
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It was only at this moment that many people—including the fifteen Chen princes who had secretly slipped into the capital under cover of night—finally realized what had happened.
Beyond the shock, people began to think about the blow this dealt to the Holy Empress and its impact on the overall situation. At the same time, they naturally started pondering a very important question.
Since the Holy Empress had not yet achieved perfection, it meant the Crown Prince Zhao Ming was still alive. Chen Changsheng was not him. So where was the real Crown Prince Zhao Ming?
This shocking news spread countless times faster than a red hawk.
On the official road from Luoyang to the capital, the corpulent Prince Xiang suddenly bounced up from the ground and launched a torrent of curses toward the capital.
No one could make out clearly who exactly he was cursing—Ji Daoist or Chen Changsheng—but his attendants were certain he did not utter a single word against the Holy Empress.
Then, panting heavily, he waddled back onto his carriage and said, "Once we enter the capital, find out where my poor little brother is."
On the waterway from Jiangnan Prefecture to the capital, Prince Zhongshan issued a similar order to his subordinates, though he was far more direct than Prince Xiang.
"If you can kill him secretly, then kill him. If not, then pledge loyalty and surrender on my behalf first."
No one knew how many other princes harbored the same thoughts at that moment.
Prince Xiang lifted the carriage curtain and gazed toward the capital.
Prince Zhongshan stood at the prow of the ship, staring toward the capital.
They could not see the scene atop the Mausoleum of Books, but they felt as if they could.
Even they, ruthless and merciless as they were, felt that Chen Changsheng was pitiable at this moment.
At the same time, they found Dean Shang terrifying.
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The clouds truly had scattered.
Chen Changsheng searched the darkness for his master's figure but found nothing. Slowly, he lowered his head, rainwater dripping from his soaking wet hair.
The Heavenly Sea Holy Empress looked at the star-filled sky, silent for a long time. Then she spoke four words.
"So that's how it is."
Then she withdrew her gaze, looked toward the capital in the night, and spoke four more words, her tone dripping with mockery.
"So what?"
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(There will be another chapter at eight in the evening.)