Chapter 819: Ten Thousand Golden Leaves in the Wen River
There are many who use swords in this world, but when it comes to sword cultivation, most people would consider Chen Changsheng the highest.
Because Chen Changsheng had learned countless sword techniques, possessed countless swords, and had also studied the sword under Su Li.
In truth, although Luo Bu did not have as many sword techniques as Chen Changsheng, his sword cultivation was by no means inferior to Chen Changsheng's, and might even be slightly superior.
No one knew how much time had passed when the Snow River suddenly broke off. It was an extremely steep stretch of river, with a drop of over ten zhang between the upper and lower sections.
Ice and snow covered the wilderness and the river channel. At the point where the river broke, the water beneath the ice surged out with a roaring sound.
The strange man in blue walked to a large rock in the middle of the river.
The river water cascaded like a waterfall, mixed with chunks of ice and remnants of snow, pouring down on either side of the rock.
Mu Jiushi sat at the very front of the rock, staring at the unclean, somewhat murky water, lost in thought.
The strange man in blue spoke a few words to Mu Jiushi.
Luo Bu concealed himself among the frost-covered grass, quietly watching that scene.
The distance was too great, and the sound of the water too loud; he could not make out what they were saying, but he could sketch the scene before him.
The charcoal pencil moved across the white paper, making a faint scratching sound. Soon, the Snow River, the chaotic waterfall, and the two figures on the rock appeared on the page.
Suddenly, the strange man in blue turned around and glanced toward the forest on the riverbank.
Luo Bu's hand holding the charcoal pencil stiffened.
...
Leaving the Gobi Desert, Chen Changsheng continued his journey toward Wenshui City, but now he was not only accompanied by Nanke but also by Zhexiu and Guan Feibai.
He was well aware that the southern road would be fraught with trouble, and once he entered Wenshui City, he would face even more difficulties.
Neither he nor Zhexiu had said why they were going to Wenshui.
Just like back then, when he defeated Zhou Ziheng outside the National Academy and boarded the carriage heading toward the North Military Command Alley.
At that time, he and that fellow had not said what they were going to do either.
Back then, they were going to Zhou Prison to pick someone up. Now, it was the same—they were going to Wenshui City to pick someone up.
That fellow had been in Wenshui City for a long time without any news.
Regardless of whether the people they encountered on the road truly dared to assassinate Chen Changsheng, many did not want him to go to Wenshui.
So he had to go to Wenshui.
...
In the winter of the third year of the New Kingdom, on an ordinary, unremarkable sunny day, the winter clouds suddenly scattered, and the sunlight was rarely bright. Chen Changsheng and his companions arrived on the plains outside Wenshui City.
When he could see Wenshui City from afar, Wenshui City had already seen him.
It could be said with certainty that by now, the entire city knew he had arrived.
But nothing happened.
Neither the Tang family guards at the city gates nor the merchants and pedestrians they encountered along the way showed any unusual emotions.
To be more precise, those guards and merchants did not even glance at them, not even at their travel documents.
Wenshui City was bustling, with streets and alleys interconnected and extending in all directions. The main street running north-south through the city was particularly grand, no less impressive than the Vermilion Bird Avenue in the capital or the Eastern Divine Avenue in Luoyang. It could accommodate eight carriages side by side, extremely wide and imposing.
But when Chen Changsheng and his group appeared, this street suddenly seemed a bit crowded.
It was not that they deliberately blocked the vehicles and pedestrians, but rather that those vehicles and pedestrians began to change course when they were still over ten zhang away.
Clearly, the pedestrians and vehicles were all going around them, or rather, keeping far away from them.
They were like a large reef in the river, forcing the water to flow to both sides.
Except for a few curious children at the alley entrances, no one looked at them, yet everyone kept their distance, as if they were a flood or a ferocious beast.
The atmosphere was eerie. Chen Changsheng even felt that the aromas wafting from the eateries dared not approach them.
Zhexiu gazed at the building with white walls and black eaves at the end of the long street, silent.
That building was still far away, but its ancient historical significance already pressed down upon them.
That was the world-famous Tang Family Ancestral Hall, said to have a longer history than the imperial palace in the capital.
Guan Feibai was also looking at that building. His right thumb, index finger, and middle finger slowly rubbed against the somewhat worn sword hilt, his eyes slightly narrowed, lost in thought.
If the news from the Li Palace was correct, that fellow should be locked up there right now.
Nanke thought of nothing. She held Chen Changsheng's sleeve with two fingers, feeling a bit hungry and wanting to eat meat.
Chen Changsheng stepped forward.
The crowd naturally parted, leaving the middle of the street like a sea divided by a divine force.
Chen Changsheng did not walk all the way to the building with white walls and black eaves at the end of the long street. He stopped at a certain point, then turned and walked up a stone staircase.
Behind the stone staircase was a quiet passage, at the end of which was a grove, and deep within the grove stood a Daoist hall.
It was the main cathedral of the National Religion in Wenshui City.
The doors of the Daoist hall slowly closed.
Chen Changsheng and his companions could no longer be seen.
The merchants and pedestrians on the street suddenly stopped, then looked toward the closed doors of the Daoist hall.
In the silence, only the distant barking of dogs and the crying of children could be heard.
This scene was even more bizarre, like those hard-to-understand pantomimes in Snow Old City.
No one knew how much time passed before people withdrew their gazes from the Daoist hall and continued walking, returning to their own lives.
The doors of the Daoist hall remained tightly shut, and the snow-covered grove stood silent.
No one knew what was happening inside.
Until dusk fell.
...
The pedestrians on the street no longer looked toward the Daoist hall in the grove, with a certain deliberateness, but elsewhere, countless eyes were still watching this place.
The Wen River flowed through the city. At one section, the current was gentle and the scenery beautiful, just behind the Daoist hall.
On the opposite bank, seven merchants, six yamen runners, three fortune-tellers, two old men selling sesame candy, and a young girl buying rouge were all watching the back garden of the Daoist hall.
There was also a bearded officer who occasionally glanced in that direction.
The light of the setting sun fell on the mirror-like water, turning into countless patches of fire, as if the sky itself were burning.
Those rays of light then reflected back, landing on his face, making his beard look like a burning bush.
Luo Bu thought of the famous Three Styles of Wenshui from the Tang family.
Those three sword moves all had beautiful names: Evening Clouds Gather, Setting Sun Hangs, and A River of Maple Leaves.
Had that Tang family ancestor of old seen such a scene here, been moved by it, and thus created such exquisite and moving sword techniques?
The back garden of the Daoist hall was as quiet as ever, not a single figure in sight.
Suddenly, the sound of a zither arose, gurgling like water, very pleasant to the ear.
He turned to look and saw a blind zither player sitting by the Wen River, plucking the strings.
Although it was dusk, the light falling from the west was even brighter, somewhat dazzling, but the blind zither player did not feel it. Unlike others who shielded their eyes with their hands, he squinted, gently swaying his head to the music, looking extremely pleased and utterly intoxicated.
Seeing this scene, Luo Bu walked over to the zither player and tossed down a few pieces of silver.
Hearing the sound of the silver falling, the blind zither player became even more cheerful, his brows seeming to lift as if about to fly. His fingers moved faster across the strings, but the tune suddenly shifted, becoming low and deep. It was no longer the ten thousand golden leaves on the river's surface, but the old friends of the distant city under the setting sun.
...
(As I've said before, the sunlight on the water's surface looks like ten thousand gold coins. This kind of description is the most vulgar and my favorite to use. I enjoy reading his books, so I've been happily using it for years. Now that we've reached Wenshui City, the richest place in the world of Ze Tian Ji, this usage is just too fitting.)