Chapter 770: Since Ancient Times, One Demon Lord
Tonight, this situation had already occurred several times.
When Zhu Ye and the others arrived at the lakeshore and discovered that the owner of the Cinnabar Pill was Chen Changsheng, they had also let out similar sighs of lament.
Among the snowy peaks, when Zhu Ye’s feet were severed by the sound of the zither and he gazed at the starry sky awaiting death, he had sighed faintly.
Now, as Chen Changsheng looked at the middle-aged scholar, he too couldn’t help but sigh.
The gap between the two sides was too vast. No matter what means you employed, how much wisdom you exhausted, even if you shed blood and sacrificed your life, there was no way to reverse the current situation.
You would naturally feel unwilling, yet utterly helpless and hopeless. All kinds of emotions intertwined, ultimately condensing into a soft sigh.
Beyond his shock, Chen Changsheng felt confusion. They said the abyss was bottomless, so why was he still alive, appearing before his very eyes?
Thinking about these matters, he glanced at Hai Di but said nothing.
From the moment he heard that clear, crisp zither sound, Hai Di had turned his head to look and then made no further move. His gaze remained fixed on the direction from which the zither sound had come—the very spot where the middle-aged scholar now stood.
This great figure of the demon race was now extremely rigid, both in body and spirit, but Chen Changsheng was certain that he knew he had glanced at him.
That glance was a question.
Should we join forces?
……
……
The human and demon races had been at war for many years, with heavy casualties on both sides and deep-seated enmity. Especially after the peace treaty between Emperor Taizong and the Demon Lord was torn apart a thousand years ago, unless under extreme circumstances—such as the Liang family’s unforgotten hatred for their entire clan being slaughtered, or the old affair of Zhou Dufu back in the day—the strong from both sides had never joined forces again. Shang Xingzhou had secretly orchestrated the incident at the Heavenly Book Mausoleum, maintaining only a tacit understanding of non-interference with the big shots in Snow Old City, never directly borrowing power from each other.
No one could bear the infamy that would last for ages.
If Chen Changsheng wanted to join forces with Hai Di, he wouldn’t need to worry about this problem, because the middle-aged scholar’s identity would make the entire continent agree with his approach.
Moreover, this matter had a certain feasibility—Hai Di was very likely to agree to join forces with him.
Over two years ago, after the rebellion in Snow Old City, the Demon Lord died and Nanke went missing. Countless royal clan ministers loyal to the old dynasty were executed, yet Hai Di survived and his prestige grew even greater than before. He now held the demon race’s military authority on the front lines. No matter how you looked at it, he was inevitably one of the rebels.
If he wanted to survive tonight, he would certainly need to join forces with Chen Changsheng.
Killing Chen Changsheng, the human Pope, was indeed tempting, but killing that middle-aged scholar was clearly more important to Hai Di than anything else in the world.
Hai Di did not respond to Chen Changsheng’s questioning gaze. He still stared at the middle-aged scholar, vigilant and fearful, gripping the broken stele tightly.
The dilapidated courtyard was very quiet. What this silence meant was actually clear to everyone present.
Nanke’s gaze grew increasingly cold, and the color of her feathers, slowly swaying in the night wind, deepened, becoming more and more eerie.
Just then, the middle-aged scholar’s voice rang out.
“I’m about to die.”
His voice was ordinary.
Ordinary in its indifference, ordinary in its authority, ordinary in its supreme loftiness—nothing unusual about it.
But if someone looked closely at his face, they would notice some extremely unusual things.
The middle-aged scholar’s face seemed forever shrouded in a faint layer of night.
Within that night, countless golden brocade characters drifted slowly. Beneath those characters were painted landscapes—sometimes a desert, sometimes a blue sea. As he raised his brows or moved his lips, the blue sea stirred up waves, the desert flowed, the scenery incredibly vivid yet eerily cold, because within all these myriad sights, there was not a single person.
And when he spoke the words “I’m about to die,” that vast world also grew much dimmer, as if it would return to nothingness in the next moment.
Thus, Chen Changsheng knew he was telling the truth.
He recalled many years ago in the Papal Office, in that room filled with all kinds of plum blossoms, where he had heard Meilisha say something similar.
Over two years ago, he couldn’t remember whether it was in the Li Palace or the National Academy, but he had also heard the Pope Uncle say those words.
He thought for a moment and said to the middle-aged scholar, “All that lives will die.”
The middle-aged scholar said, “The fourth exquisite line from the Dao Origin Ode.”
Chen Changsheng did not ask what the top three exquisite lines were, because everyone who read the Daoist Canon would have their own understanding and insights. Of course, he was not surprised that the other party could so easily recognize that his words came from the Dao Origin Ode. Because it was known throughout the world that this man was profoundly learned, the most remarkable scholar in Snow Old City since Tongusi.
“But who is truly willing to die? For example, Tianhai, for example, Yin, and even earlier old acquaintances—no matter how calmly they acted, were they ever willing to obediently walk into that darkness? I am even less willing, so I crawled out of that terrifying darkness and came here to see you.”
As he spoke slowly, the night on the middle-aged scholar’s face grew deeper and deeper, becoming more and more unbearable to look at.
Zhi Zhi, listening to his tone, vaguely guessed something about his identity but dared not believe it. Her voice trembled slightly.
“You… what exactly do you want to do?”
“Your father once said you didn’t like studying and were simple-minded. Tonight, it seems that’s indeed the case.”
The middle-aged scholar’s expression was gentle, like an elder speaking to her. “Don’t worry. For your father’s sake, I naturally won’t make things difficult for you.”
Through these words, Zhi Zhi confirmed his identity. She was so shocked she couldn’t speak, instinctively looking toward Chen Changsheng, her eyes filled with particular confusion and helplessness.
Countless years ago, a great Frost Dragon did not want to succeed the Dragon Clan’s chieftain and traveled far to the continent.
On the continent, it encountered many other equally great beings and then died in the Zhou Garden.
That was her father.
Among those great beings, only one was her father’s friend—or rather, her father only admired that one.
As time passed, the Great Zhou had changed several emperors, the Li Mountain Sword Sect had changed three sect leaders, and the Tang Clan had changed two clan heads. Only that one forever sat at the highest place of the Divine Palace. So much so that many ordinary people had a mistaken perception: as if since ancient times, as if across heaven and earth, the demon race had only one… Demon Lord.
Yes, the middle-aged scholar was the Demon Lord.
He was the most powerful and talented monarch in Snow Old City’s history, the sovereign worshipped by the demon race, and the enemy most feared by humanity.
If it weren’t for the sudden emergence of countless geniuses among humanity at the beginning of his reign, the demon race would have already conquered the entire continent under his leadership.
But whether it was Zhou Dufu a thousand years ago, Chen Xuanba, Emperor Taizong, Wang Zhice, or Tianhai, Yin, and Shang a thousand years later, none could truly defeat him.
Facing the human strongmen who burst forth like a galaxy of stars, he still led the demon race to stand unshaken in the northern continent, like the eternal night sky above Snow Old City.
From any perspective, he was the greatest Demon Lord of all time.
Whether since ancient times, or across heaven and earth.
……
……
(Don’t obediently walk into that darkness—of course, that comes from that poem. The good thing about Interstellar was that poem, which was completely opposite to the final point. Nolan needed to film an ending everyone could accept, which was something I deeply regretted. I think this attitude is sharp and powerful.)