Chapter 706: The Iron Blade's Longing (Part 1)
Shang Xingzhou did not manage to leave the imperial palace.
His will surged like a mighty torrent, about to flood the entire capital and even the whole world, swallowing Chen Changsheng whole.
At that moment, someone stepped forward.
The Pope was still in the Li Palace, Wang Po remained by the table, Xu Yourong was at the Southern Brook Studio, the girls of the Southern Brook Studio were blocked by Priest Xin and his men at the National Academy, Tang Thirty-Six was in Wenshui, and Zhe Xiu was missing.
The person who stepped forward surprised everyone, yet upon careful thought, it was only natural.
Yu Ren stood in the wind and snow, with eunuchs and maids kneeling all around him.
The young Emperor, for the first time, defied the wishes of his teacher and ministers, appearing in a certain place between heaven and earth.
That was the position he had chosen for himself.
The cold wind stirred his cloak but could not stir his brows or eyes. His expression remained serene and calm, perfectly natural.
No matter how furiously the wind and snow raged, they were still natural phenomena.
He gazed quietly at his teacher.
Shang Xingzhou gazed quietly back at him.
Unlike Chen Changsheng, Yu Ren was Shang Xingzhou's true successor, the embodiment of Shang Xingzhou's lifelong ideals.
Shang Xingzhou truly cherished him deeply, willing to give everything for him, always acting in his best interests.
Yu Ren understood this clearly, so he was moved, then uneasy, and then fearful.
These past days, he had been learning in the palace how to become a wise emperor, silent because he was afraid.
He knew that his teacher would surely kill his junior brother.
To become a great emperor like Emperor Taizong, his heart must have no flaws—in other words, nothing in the world could shake his resolve.
Shang Xingzhou was determined to ensure this; he would not even allow himself to possess such influence.
Chen Changsheng could achieve this, so he had to die.
No one understood.
The Great Western Continent did not understand, the White Emperor City did not understand, Wenshui did not understand, the Southern Lands did not understand, not even His Holiness the Pope understood.
Only the old temple beside Xining Town understood.
That morning at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, when Yu Ren watched his junior brother carry the remains of the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress down the mountain, watched his teacher ascend the mountain, and saw them pass each other like strangers, he understood.
So these past days, he had been obedient in the palace, diligently learning how to become a wise emperor.
The more uneasy and fearful he became, the more obedient and quiet he was, just like in the old temple at Xining Town.
Yet his teacher still wanted to kill his junior brother.
So he had no choice but to step forward and tell his teacher that this would not do.
Looking at Yu Ren in the wind and snow, Shang Xingzhou's expression grew even colder, his resolve to kill Chen Changsheng even firmer.
His desire for Chen Changsheng's death was rooted in this very reasoning, and Yu Ren's appearance now only confirmed his thoughts. In his eyes, Chen Changsheng deserved death all the more.
How could this be stopped? How could someone like Shang Xingzhou's mind be changed?
Yu Ren's hand grasped a jade pendant tied to his belt.
This jade pendant was made of fine green jade, translucent and flawless, extremely precious.
The pendant had no fluctuation of energy; it was not a magical artifact, merely a gift presented by the head of the Qiushan family when he visited the new emperor a few days ago.
This gift suited the new emperor's taste perfectly.
At that time in the hall, when Yu Ren accepted the jade pendant, he showed no unusual reaction, but his heart stirred slightly.
He had not expected that someone in the world could guess his worries and unease and offer a solution.
He knew well that during the Li Mountain rebellion, the Qiushan Lord, who was as famous as his junior brother, had once done something in the face of his own father.
So when he faced his teacher, perhaps he could do the same.
Shang Xingzhou's gaze pierced through the wind and snow, landing on the jade pendant in Yu Ren's hand.
He knew everything that happened in the palace, so naturally, he knew the pendant's origin.
He understood what Yu Ren meant, and so he fell silent.
The wind and snow did not cease. The snow deepened on the palace square, and the kneeling eunuchs, maids, and the dozen or so Taoists looked like black dots.
After an unknown length of time, Shang Xingzhou finally spoke.
"Just this once," he said to Yu Ren. "Only this once."
Yu Ren nodded very seriously.
Shang Xingzhou continued, "But Your Majesty must understand, this is the capital, not the old temple at Xining Town. This is a matter of the world, not just between the three of us, master and disciples. This is not like him forgetting to boil water or cook, where you could take the punishment for him. I can choose not to punish him, but there are others who will act in heaven's stead, and he will still die."
Yu Ren did not think so.
He knew that Lady Mu had gone to the Li Palace, that Tie Shu and other peerless experts were guarding the Zhou Prison, along with Xiao De, Xiao Zhang, and even the Tang clan of Wenshui.
But he still believed in Chen Changsheng.
Because Chen Changsheng was not alone; he had companions.
Yu Ren understood clearly that, influenced by himself, his junior brother was not talkative and not particularly interesting. But back in Xining Town, whether hunting in the mountains, catching fish downstream, or buying vegetables in town, he always met people willing to help him—hunters, fishermen, all people with kind hearts.
Perhaps that was because the two of them, master and disciple, had always harbored an indelible kindness toward this world?
...
...
The sounds of fighting on the street suddenly ceased.
That did not mean the battle was over, because in the wind and snow, it was clear that Chen Changsheng was still standing.
Wang Po's fingers were very long, appearing very steady, especially when he gripped the hilt of his blade.
The thin snow scattered, revealing the true appearance of the iron blade, still in its sheath, its edge hidden.
But there was already a great difference.
Earlier, this iron blade had rested quietly on the table; now it was held in his hand.
With his movement, many things had already changed.
The Second Master of the Tang family's expression turned extremely ugly.
A flicker of surprise also passed through Tie Shu's eyes.
The Tang clan of Wenshui had invoked the weight of "favor as heavy as a mountain," yet still could not make this man put away his blade?
"Do you dare to draw your blade against me?"
The Second Master of the Tang family stared into Wang Po's eyes, his voice several degrees colder than the snow.
He represented the Tang clan of Wenshui, represented the Old Master, represented that mountain.
Wang Po stood up and looked at him. "I will not draw my blade against you."
The Second Master of the Tang family said nothing, knowing there must be more.
Indeed.
"Because you are not worthy," Wang Po said.
From the Tanzhe Temple to the snowy street, from yellow leaves to wind and snow, in all the days Wang Po had been in the capital, the iron blade had never left its sheath.
Everyone knew he was comprehending the Way of the Blade, nurturing its edge. This one strike of his would surely shake heaven and earth.
Aside from those in the Divine Domain, who was worthy of receiving this strike?
Wang Po said the Second Master of the Tang family was not worthy of this strike—not mockery, but the truth.
The truth hurts the most.
The Second Master of the Tang family's expression grew even uglier, but then he laughed.
This time, his laugh had sound—a loud, mocking laugh.
The laughter abruptly stopped. He stared at Wang Po and said coldly, "Whether unworthy or afraid, if you do not draw your blade, you still cannot solve today's predicament."
This was also the truth. If Wang Po did not draw his blade, how could he help Chen Changsheng?
What happened next was Wang Po's answer.
He gripped the iron blade and swung it toward the Second Master of the Tang family.
Like flicking a sleeve, like brushing away dust, like driving away something detestable from before his eyes—the motion was light, disdainful.
The Second Master of the Tang family's pupils contracted. He had not expected Wang Po to actually strike at him. He swiftly channeled his true essence, stepped on the snow, and transformed into several golden afterimages, dodging in all directions.
In recent years, he had not trained as diligently as before, but his talent was still astonishing, and as a direct descendant of the Tang clan, his strength remained, his realm quite high.
He used the Wenshui Tang clan's Ten Thousand Gold Leaves movement technique, which could reach the other shore in an instant—a supreme art even Tang Thirty-Six had not learned. Though not as mysterious as the Yashiki Step, it was still difficult to see through.
Countless snowflakes flew up as Wang Po's iron blade descended.
The iron blade fell simply like this, yet it contained infinite variations.
In the end, nothing changed.
The iron blade traced a straight line through the wind and snow, simple and clear.
The tip of the line struck one of the golden afterimages with perfect accuracy.
A crisp *smack* sounded, like the sound of a slap.
The Second Master of the Tang family crashed heavily onto the snowy street.
His right cheek was swollen and red, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes filled with disbelief.
After a moment, he came to his senses and glared at Wang Po, shouting in shock and anger, "How dare you hit me!"
Wang Po looked at him and said nothing.
Several teeth mixed with blood were spat from the Second Master of the Tang family's mouth.
He touched his face with trembling fingers, even more furious, and shrieked, "How dare you hit my face!"
"The first time I saw you in Wenshui, I really wanted to hit you."
Wang Po paused for a moment, then said, "And I especially wanted to hit your face."