Chapter 737: A Eulogy for Ideals and Fate
The so-called surprises arose because, at that time, some human or demon experts appeared on the continent.
These experts were too powerful—excessively so—to the point that even the world found them astonishing. They simply did not take the dragon race seriously.
For instance, the legendary demon scholar Tongus, a once-in-a-millennium genius, was particularly fond of conducting research with dragon blood. Throughout his long and tedious life, countless dragons perished in his laboratory beneath Snow Old City—a room that never saw sunlight but was perpetually aligned with the moon. Weaker Frost Dragons would even fall from the sky in terror upon hearing his name. Another example was the previous master of the Mountain Sea Sword, who once engaged in fierce battles with several evil dragons between the mountains and the sea. It was said that the sea, stained red by blood, later produced sea cucumbers of exceptional value. Then there was the strongest Frost Dragon in a millennium, which gained the Demon Lord’s friendship in Snow Old City but was ultimately turned into the mountain range in Zhou Garden by Zhou Du|Fu.
And then there was that man named Su Li.
Back then, by the hot spring in the snowy plains, the little black dragon nearly died of fright the moment she saw Su Li.
She sensed it clearly: this man had killed many dragons.
Those brave enough to slay dragons were not necessarily true warriors, for they might fail. Only those who succeeded in dragon-slaying could be called powerful.
So what did that make someone like Su Li, who traveled all the way to the Southern Sea just to determine the true strength of the dragon race, cutting down countless dragons with his sword?
Well, he was simply an indescribable anomaly, a nearly insane exception that could not be judged by common sense.
The little black dragon did not know who Shang Xingzhou was, but she could sense that this powerful Daoist should also be classified as an anomaly. So she deliberately brought up that old incident. In her mind, even if the dragon race’s fearsome reputation could not intimidate him, mentioning a legendary name like Wang Zhice should at least command his respect.
Shang Xingzhou’s reaction was calm and indifferent, completely catching her off guard.
“Rumors say you have a brutal temperament, often devouring people at the slightest disagreement. After landing in the south, countless villages and towns were reduced to ruins by you,” he said, looking at her calmly, like an elder addressing a mischievous child. “But when I saw you at Frost Flower Inn back then, I knew the rumors weren’t true.”
Frost Flower Inn was an obscure location in the capital. Chen Changsheng knew of it only because of Mo Yan’s orange grove there; ordinary people could hardly remember it. But how could the little black dragon forget? Hundreds of years ago, she was captured there by experts of the Great Zhou court, lying helplessly on the ground, gasping for breath. A thin layer of frost had formed on the entire surface of the small bridge. That damned Wang surnamed scholar walked over from the other end, his footprints blooming like flowers...
That might be how Frost Flower Inn got its name.
“Back then... you saw me?” The little black dragon stared at Shang Xingzhou, her unease and hidden fear turning into intense vigilance.
“Of course I saw you. The iron chain Wang Zhice used to bind you—I lent it to him.”
Shang Xingzhou’s gaze dropped to her feet.
Between her feet was an iron chain that looked short but was actually very long, forming a stark contrast with the white snow.
She stood barefoot on the snow-covered grass, seemingly unaffected by the cold, but when she heard Shang Xingzhou’s words, she began to feel chilled.
Shang Xingzhou continued, “This iron chain is a treasure of the Li Palace. My junior brother managed to pull it from the wall, but he couldn’t break it.”
The little black dragon exchanged a glance with Chen Changsheng, both silent.
They say time is the most powerful force, and history the heaviest burden. All that weight and power were embedded in Shang Xingzhou’s words.
The Heavenly Mechanism Elder had passed away, the Pope had returned to the sea of stars, the Demon Lord had fallen into the abyss, and Wang Zhice had retired from the world. No one remained who could reminisce about those days with him.
From this perspective, he was history itself, time itself—except that in those bygone years, he had never written his own name.
“Comrades and companions have all died, and one hides like a ghost among the mountains. So I can no longer remain hidden,” Shang Xingzhou said, looking at the two of them with a hint of emotion, as if recalling some ancient tales. He spoke slowly, “Because we are all guardians.”
Chen Changsheng understood his meaning.
No matter how much deceit, conspiracy, and cruelty existed, no one could deny that in the beginning, Emperor Taizong and the ministers of Lingyan Pavilion were all thorough idealists. They shed blood and sweat, fought for their goals, and aimed to end the chaos of the world, drive out the demons, and become the guardians of this continent.
Shang Xingzhou was not just a witness to that magnificent era; he was a participant.
He was originally one of those idealists, obscure in reputation yet playing a crucial role. Emperor Taizu’s alliance with the current Pope, Emperor Taizong’s eventual full support from the Li Palace during the Hundred Herb Garden Incident, and the cold stories later linked to Lingyan Pavilion—all were likely connected to him.
Those comrades or companions from back then had either died, been killed by Emperor Taizong and him, or left. In short, after a thousand long years, only he remained. Even if he was the only one left, precisely because he was the only one left, he naturally had to shoulder the fates and responsibilities of those old comrades.
He would become the guardian of this continent. He would carry out Emperor Taizong’s final decree. He would realize the ideals of his companions.
Humanity united, demons subjugated, a thousand generations of peace, and a world of great harmony.
“No one can stop me.”
“And no one should stop me.”
“Not even you.”
Shang Xingzhou looked at Chen Changsheng, speaking calmly and firmly.
Chen Changsheng didn’t know what to say.
Just then, a crane’s cry rang out from the night sky.
A white crane had returned from the south, traveling ten thousand miles, answering on his behalf.
...
...
A gentle breeze blew, cold to ordinary people but merely crisp to the two humans and one dragon beneath the banyan tree.
Snow on the lake surface rustled and shifted, like the withered leaves long buried beneath.
On this starless night, it was still neither cold nor dark, because no matter how the court’s situation changed, the myriad lights of the capital had illuminated the mortal world for countless years.
The white crane brought Xu Yourong’s letter, conveying the fearless stance of the Holy Maiden Peak.
Madam Mu had left in her deer-drawn carriage, signaling White Emperor City’s position.
The attitudes of Li Mountain and Huaiyuan Courtyard needed no asking.
As for the most crucial state religion, even if many were willing to support Shang Xingzhou, who would dare openly oppose Chen Changsheng in the face of the Pope’s final decree?
After a stifling silence, Shang Xingzhou’s voice rang out again.
“Back when I picked you up by the stream, I once said your fate was very poor.”
He looked at Chen Changsheng and said, “Now it seems I was wrong.”
The young Daoist from Xining Town had become the youngest Pope in history.
In his mother’s womb, his solar wheel had collapsed, and he was fated to live no more than twenty years. Yet now, his meridians had been rebuilt, his star apertures perfected, and his path of cultivation lay smooth ahead.
He had the support of the entire state religion, many factions, and even a guardian.
From anyone’s perspective, this fate was excellent, worthy of praise.
And then?