Chapter 691: Someone Has Come
As the most infamous treacherous minister, sycophant, cruel official, and thug in recent years—and perhaps in all history—Zhou Tong had no friends.
Su Li often claimed to have no friends as well, but that was a different matter entirely.
Whether classmates, colleagues, or even those of the same path, everyone wished Zhou Tong would hurry up and die—like the princes currently in power at court.
If Zhou Tong truly died, naturally no one would come to collect his corpse.
In truth, he once had a friend willing to do so.
Unfortunately, that friend had been killed by his own hand, and had nearly died without a place to be buried.
So in this autumn, he could already see far into the future: Zhou Tong would surely die without a burial ground.
He couldn’t blame others or the world, because he had brought this all upon himself.
From this moment on, he would live in unease, confusion, and bewilderment, seeing no hope, until he finally died without a place to be buried.
Chen Changsheng’s question was not a curse, but a calm analysis, a quiet exposure.
That was terrifying.
The scene fell into an eerie silence. Whether officials from the Ministry of Justice or students from the National Academy, no one spoke for a long time.
In such a moment, the only one who could break the silence was Zhou Tong himself.
He looked at Chen Changsheng with extreme seriousness and said, “The Dao Sovereign will naturally arrange my affairs after death.”
This was the only possibility he could think of in that short time to counter Chen Changsheng’s deduction.
He was now Shang Xingzhou’s dog; when he died, his master would surely show some pity.
Chen Changsheng looked at him and said, “I know him better than you do. Every corpse has its use to him. If his dog dies, he might eat its meat to nourish himself, or distribute the meat to the townspeople to gain a good reputation. If that dog once bit someone, he wouldn’t mind grinding its bones to ash to let the living vent their anger.”
Zhou Tong felt cold, then hot. Sweat began to form inside his blood-red official robe.
“Everyone will die,” he said, looking at Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng knew he was referring to the Pope.
Zhou Tong continued, “Then have you ever thought, when the time comes, who will collect your corpse?”
Before Chen Changsheng could speak, he stared into his eyes and pressed on, “Don’t forget, you’re nothing but a plaything for the great figures—you’re just a substitute!”
From the initial “The Dao Sovereign will arrange my affairs” to these three consecutive sentences, they only revealed one thing.
Zhou Tong had been touched by Chen Changsheng’s question at his most vulnerable point. He began to feel uneasy, even faintly fearful.
Chen Changsheng said, “I don’t know who will collect my corpse. I only know that before I die, I will surely kill you first.”
Dead silence. Outside the Xue residence, only the autumn wind whispered.
Again, this was not a threat, because his expression was calm as he spoke.
Of course, it was not a joke either, because his calm face showed no trace of a smile—it was very serious.
This was a declaration.
Chen Changsheng declared to the entire world: No matter what, Zhou Tong would die before him.
Zhou Tong would meet a violent end.
Combined with the earlier question, that meant: He would ensure Zhou Tong died without a burial place.
...
...
Inside the Xue residence, it was deathly still.
The faces of the Ministry of Justice officials were exceptionally grim, and the National Academy students’ expressions were also tense.
After all, Zhou Tong was a high-ranking minister of the court. Even the Pope and the Emperor would not make such a declaration.
Chen Changsheng’s declaration might be satisfying, but what turmoil would it stir?
To him, this was not a problem. He wasn’t trying to vent emotions; he was calmly stating his thoughts. As for what others thought, he didn’t care.
After saying these words, he walked toward Lady Xue.
As for the Xue family’s young lady and steward, who had been restrained by the officials, they were naturally freed.
Zhou Tong watched his back and asked expressionlessly, “Can you kill me?”
Chen Changsheng didn’t stop or turn around. He said, “That night, I already killed you once.”
“Do you think you’re righteous and noble, that your empty words carry weight? Following your heart—those clichés, how many times do you plan to repeat them?”
Zhou Tong concluded, “No one will share your thoughts, just as no one will come here.”
...
...
Time proved Zhou Tong wrong.
Not long after Chen Changsheng arrived, the Xue residence welcomed another guest.
This guest’s identity was so special that even Zhou Tong could do nothing about him, and it surprised everyone.
The great figure who came to pay respects to Xue Xingchuan was Prince Zhongshan, Chen Sixuan.
This prince, who had suffered countless humiliations during the Tianhai era, naturally showed no kindness to Chen Changsheng, and even less to Zhou Tong.
He offered a stick of incense to Xue Xingchuan, glanced at Chen Changsheng, and then spat in Zhou Tong’s face.
Next came the Minister of Rites, some great figures from the State Church, and finally Tianhai Shengxue.
Many noticed a faint wound on Tianhai Shengxue’s face, likely from the conflict that occurred when he tried to leave his residence earlier.
Every great figure who appeared at the Xue residence was like a slap to Zhou Tong’s face.
No matter how patient Zhou Tong was, he couldn’t stay any longer.
As he was leaving, he saw Prince Chenliu.
“If I were you, I would silently pray that Chen Changsheng smoothly succeeds as Pope.”
Prince Chenliu looked at him seriously and said, “Otherwise, he will surely fulfill that promise.”
Back then, on the Divine Path of the Li Palace, Archbishop Melisarius declared to the world that Chen Changsheng would take first place in the Grand Examination. In the end, Chen Changsheng truly did.
Today, before the spirit hall of the Xue residence, Chen Changsheng declared to the world that he would make Zhou Tong die without a burial place...
“Many people want to kill me, but I’ve survived all these years. Why?”
Zhou Tong laughed, a hint of ferocity in his smile. “Because I never see myself as a human. I know very well that I am a dog.”
Dogs always have masters.
To hit a dog, you must look at its master.
And this dog of his always found the most powerful master.
“Those crazy, hot-blooded youths, their reason washed away by youth, have wanted to kill me for years. But can they kill me?”
“As for those capable of killing me, would they be blind enough not to see who my master is?”
“Chen Changsheng can say whatever he wants, but he still doesn’t dare to lay a hand on me, does he?”
Zhou Tong smiled, the ferocity in his smile gradually turning into mockery and weariness—toward the world and himself.
This was true. He was a cultivator at the Star Condensation Upper Realm, commanding countless assassins and experts. Those capable of killing him had to be true masters of the continent. And true masters were never solitary; they had sects, clans, and many people to care for—like Zhu Luo in the past. As a Divine Domain expert, killing Zhou Tong wouldn’t have been too difficult, but in all those years, he never tried.
The young and brave who wanted to kill Zhou Tong lacked the power to do so.
Those who could kill him had inevitably weathered storms, matured, and knew to consider the bigger picture.
People like Chen Changsheng were rare.
Even he, if he wanted to inherit the papacy now, couldn’t touch Zhou Tong.
In Zhou Tong’s view, that declaration was just the harsh words of a young man.
Besides Chen Changsheng, who else was there?
Those capable of killing him would never be so naive.
So he had always been safe.
At that moment, a large cart carrying a crabapple tree entered the capital.
The tree’s roots were well-preserved, wrapped in fresh soil.
The accompanying cavalrymen cracked their whips, driving away pedestrians and cursing the time.
By the official road, a man watched these scenes silently, saying nothing.
His blue robe was washed somewhat white, starched very stiff.
His brows slanted downward, giving him a shabby look.
He resembled an accountant owed a lot of wages.
Also like a broken knife wrapped in coarse cloth.