Ze Tian Ji

Edited by: Michyrr

The wind suddenly stopped, and the clouds obscured the setting sun. Night seemed to fall early, the golden threads on the water’s surface gradually dimming.

In a very short amount of time, the two banks of the Wenshui grew colder, and a sinister aura penetrated both the chains and the tightly-shut doors of the houses.

Luo Bu sat on the second floor of the restaurant. As he listened to the tune of the blind zither player, he slowly shut his eyes. His right hand fell on the hilt of his sword and softly caressed it.

Even he did not have any confidence to contend against the unfathomable strength of the Tang clan. In the past, the most he could do was send a warning, but now he wanted to try.

Because in the past, the sword he used was a bronze sword that he had had forged at the smith in the village at the foot of the mountain for two taels of silver, but now he was using a different sword.

With this sword in hand, he could step amidst the frosted grass like a sword, transform his body into a sword. Even when facing an expert of the Divine Domain, he could still ensure that his Dao heart was brightly lit.

He closed his eyes, listening to the strumming of the zither from below, listening to the water beat against the shore, listening to the chains touch and then part from the surface of the water, sensing everything in the world.

Suddenly, his ears twitched.

He opened his eyes and looked into the river. His gaze deepened, looking into even deeper places, ultimately peering into the water grass.

He felt that something was strange about the water grass there. It was of a somewhat darker hue than the surrounding grass, but there was otherwise nothing special about it.

At this moment, the blind zither player by the river also seemed to hear something. Turning his head towards the Wenshui, he apparently forgot to move his hands.

The sound of the zither came to an abrupt stop.

The strange mood on the two banks of the river also went through an abrupt change.

The armored ships upstream silently retreated.

The two houses became completely empty.

The ripples of Qi in the forest vanished.

The Tang clan Guardians and attendants in front of the hall became much more quiet.

Only the seven peddlers, six government laborers, three fortune-tellers, two candy-selling elders, and the cosmetic-buying girl were still on the street as if they would never depart.

The door to the hall was pushed upon and the Tang Second Master walked out, his complexion unsightly.

He didn’t even glance at Linghai Zhiwang and An Lin.

Daoist Baishi’s death meant that the Orthodoxy’s stance was abnormally firm and could not be changed.

As he walked down the stone path, he saw Zhexiu standing under a large tree.

The Tang Second Master knew what he wanted to say and indifferently said, "It was not easy for you to live until today. Do not speak casually."

Zhexiu impassively replied, "It was even more difficult for a weakling like you to live until today."

The Tang Second Master slowly raised his brow, his expression unchanging. Mentally, however, he was already angry beyond belief.

That year on the snowy street of the capital, Wang Po had once said to him that when he gave up on cultivation and began to learn to scheme, the moment he began to pursue power, he became a weakling.

Today, he once more was evaluated as such, and the one evaluating him was a junior.

The more furious he was, the more indifferent he appeared. He looked at Zhexiu and asked, "Do you have a death wish?"

Zhexiu did not answer his question, saying, "Don’t make any secret moves against that fellow."

The Tang Second Master stared into his eyes and said, "In truth, I’ve never understood how a wolf cub like you could become that prodigal son’s friend."

"We aren’t friends."

Zhexiu paused, then continued, "He’s my employer, so don’t touch him."

......

......

The Tang clan’s people had all retreated. The darkness lay thick and both banks of the Wenshui were extremely quiet.

Chen Changsheng walked to the shore, Linghai Zhiwang and the others standing to his right and left. Nanke had followed his orders and remained in the church.

The starlight shone over the water, infusing it with countless silver scales. Even the best eyes would find it difficult to distinguish what was going on at the bottom of the river, let alone the water grass at its very depths.

The master of the Tang clan’s chief branch, Tang Thirty-Six’s father, had never been in good health, and in the last few years, his condition had worsened. Many people in the continent knew of this matter, including Chen Changsheng. No one had ever had any misgivings on this matter, and not even Tang Thirty-Six had ever mentioned it in his letter.

But after hearing those words from the Tang Second Master today, he felt that something wasn’t right.

"Although no one has yet managed to make clear what sort of illness this is, it has been confirmed that it’s not poison."

Archbishop An Lin continued, "Both the Thirteen Divisions of Radiant Green and South Stream Temple sent people to treat him."

The Archbishop of Wenshui glanced at Chen Changsheng and whispered, "Reporting to Your Holiness: before the temple closing of South Stream Temple... that person came."

The temple closing was seclusion, and in the past few years, only one seclusion needed to be specially mentioned, so the person that he was referring to was naturally obvious.

An Lin appeared flabbergasted while Linghai Zhiwang slightly arched his brows—the Li Palace had no knowledge of this matter.

Chen Changsheng was even more surprised, thinking to himself, why didn’t she tell me?

The Archbishop of Wenshui whispered, "That person did not let us speak of it."

If the master of the Tang clan’s chief branch was not ill, but rather had been poisoned, then the true blood of the Heavenly Phoenix should have been able to cure it.

Xu Yourong had presumably thought the same.

That the master of the chief branch was still confined to his bed and did not seem to be improving meant that he was not poisoned, but ill.

The change in the Tang Old Master’s stance most likely had a fairly straightforward connection to this matter.

Chen Changsheng knew why Xu Yourong had come. She knew that Tang Thirty-Six was his best friend, and he was very grateful to her for this act.

After thinking for a while, he still decided to visit the chief branch tomorrow.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the abilities of the Thirteen Divisions of Radiant Green or Xu Yourong, only that he wanted to see if he could rely on his own medical skills to change the tragic conclusion of this elder. Moreover, he had this feeling that matters were not as simple as they seemed. The Tang Second Master’s words and his encounter with the little monster in Hanqiu City’s Willow Lodge contributed to his misgivings.

"Investigate a disciple of the Longevity Sect called Chusu. This person practices a very strange cultivation method. No matter how rigorously they were concealed, someone should have heard of them."

He first ordered Linghai Zhiwang, then said to An Lin, "Write an urgent letter to South Stream Temple asking if they had any results from the matter I asked them to investigate."

An Lin did not know what he had written to South Stream Temple about, and so asked in confusion, "What matter could be so urgent?"

Chen Changsheng replied, "I want to know just where the legacy of the Yellow Springs Flow ended up, whether or not it remains in the south."

Linghai Zhiwang connected this matter to the strange cultivation method practiced by the Longevity Sect disciple called Chusu, and his expression instantly changed.

An Lin also turned rather pale, muttering to herself, "Could the Longevity Sect dare do such an insane thing?"

"I have no proof." Chen Changsheng paused, then turned to the Archbishop of Wenshui. "Have someone investigate whether the Tang clan has any connection to this matter."

The three departed to carry out their orders.

Carrying his sword, Guan Feibai walked out of the Daoist church.

He didn’t come to chat with Chen Changsheng, only felt that Chen Changsheng should not remain unguarded at this moment.

Chen Changsheng contemplatively gazed at the starlight-strewn river.

He truly didn’t have evidence. His only clue was the words the Demon Lord had said in the mountains.

The Demon Lord had clearly stated that the young array master was a little monster of the Longevity Sect called Chusu that was acting on the orders of Shang Xingzhou and the Tang clan.

On that early morning in Hanqiu City when he and Nanke had encountered the monster from the Yellow Springs in the kitchen, body covered in poison and evil to the extreme, he had not thought of this conversation. Only afterward did he remember the Demon Lord’s words and associate the two matters together. The problem was that the Demon Lord’s words could not serve as evidence. Everyone knew that he might just be attempting to sow discord.

As Chen Changsheng ruminated over these problems, he had no idea that in the depths of the silvery water, a clump of water grass was lightly swaying. The color of this water grass was different from its surrounding companions. Suddenly, it parted from the river bottom and slowly approached the rocks of the shore. It looked just like a ball of mud in the river, and made no sound.