Novel Bin Chapter 1115 – Who Has Won?
Edited by: Michyrr
Gravel rolled around the ground, blown by the wind. Its soft rumble mixed with the sound of the swords cutting against the wind, combining into an even more plaintive and mournful sound.
It was very quiet inside Maple Forest Pavilion. Tang Thirty-Six and Xu Yourong said nothing as they silently watched Shang Xingzhou and Chen Changsheng.
Only Wang Zhice’s voice was floating in the breeze.
This battle that was soon to alter the course of history had finally reached a result.
But just what had happened a moment ago?
Shang Xingzhou was holding Chen Changsheng’s throat, able to determine his life or death, but Wang Zhice was saying that he had lost?
Shang Xingzhou looked at Chen Changsheng and suddenly asked, "When did you learn it?"
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In the Hundred Herb Garden, Yuren stood by the stone table, staring at the academy wall.
Above the clouds, Zhizhi looked down at that building, saying nothing.
The world was very large and contained many people, but only these two understood what Shang Xingzhou meant.
In that final moment of the battle, Shang Xingzhou had said a word that was both simple and extremely complex, unfathomably complex.
This word was bursting with information.
It was Dragon language.
The contents of this word were a Daoist technique from an incomparably ancient era.
This Daoist technique was recorded in a Daoist scripture.
Many years ago, by the stream near Xining Village’s old temple, Chen Changsheng and Yuren had also seen this scripture.
They were unfamiliar with the words of this book and did not recognize them.
They went to ask their master.
Their master told them that this was the last book of the three thousand scriptures of the Daoist Canon and consisted of sixteen hundred and one characters. It was rumored to contain the final meaning of the Heavenly Dao, but no one had ever been able to completely comprehend it.
It was only today that Chen Changsheng was finally sure that his master had not been speaking the truth, or perhaps had been keeping things back.
Shang Xingzhou had clearly studied that scripture, and he had learned a great deal.
That ancient and timeworn Daoist technique had let him exhibit an ability that surpassed cultivation levels, successfully breaking through the South Stream Temple sword array and letting him appear in front of Chen Changsheng.
If everything went according to plan, he would have been the victor in this battle of master and disciple.
But it was in that moment that Chen Changsheng had also said one word.
It was a similarly complex and incomprehensible word, containing infinite information.
It was also Dragon language.
It was also an incredibly ancient Daoist technique.
Two dragon cries resonated in response to each other.
Two Qis reflected against each other.
Two Daos met.
A rain of swords descended.
If Shang Xingzhou continued to suppress his cultivation level, he would assuredly lose, perhaps even die.
Thus, at the final moment, he removed the suppression on his cultivation and used the strength of the Divine Domain.
A thousand swords cut away at his clothes, unleashing a great light.
When rain met the sun, no matter how beautiful the sight, it would eventually go up in smoke. Even the snowy plain would have to melt.
Chen Changsheng’s talent, brilliance, and Dao were crushed by the strength of a higher realm.
Shang Xingzhou’s hand clasped around his throat.
But he could not grasp the throat of fate.
He had used the strength of the Divine Domain.
So he had lost.
The true turning point of this battle was when Chen Changsheng had said that word.
Shang Xingzhou wanted to know how this had come to be.
"That year I first came to the capital."
Chen Changsheng turned his head to look at the academy wall, nostalgia appearing on his face.
Over there was the Hundred Herb Garden, and farther behind it was the Imperial City.
"One night, Mo Yu tricked me into the Tong Palace. Later on, I came to know that this was on Martial Uncle’s orders."
It had been the night of the Ivy Festival, the first time Chen Changsheng’s name became known throughout the continent. Only a few people knew that before the start of the festivities, he had been imprisoned in the Tong Palace by Mo Yu, and then he met the legendary Black Frost Dragon. Although he had almost been killed and eaten, he ultimately ended up walking away with a great harvest.
That had been the first life-or-death trial Chen Changsheng had encountered after coming to the capital. In the following months and years, he would often think back to the events of that night, like those impassioned words he had said to the little Black Dragon. The more he thought, the more embarrassed he felt, and sometimes confused as well. Why had the Pope arranged for Mo Yu to do this?
Other than having the little Black Dragon become the Protector of the next Pope, was there a deeper meaning?
Chen Changsheng couldn’t figure it out, so he stopped thinking about it.
Flowers drifted on the surface of the stream.
He decided to walk along this stream.
Against his original intentions, he began to learn Dragon language.
This was not a smooth process, and compared to buying various gourmet foods from the streets of the capital, it could even be called a challenge.
But as time passed, he would occasionally think back to that scripture he had memorized in Xining Village’s old temple. Suddenly, he realized that he had begun to vaguely understand it.
In his three years in the snowy mountains, he would spend every night continuing his lessons in Dragon language with the little Black Dragon, and then he would think back to that scripture.
It was truly very difficult, both Dragon language and that scripture.
In the end, he still didn’t learn very much, in both Dragon language and that scripture.
But it was already enough for him to receive that Daoist technique under the prerequisite of Shang Xingzhou being completely unprepared.
And it was also just a moment ago when he had said that word that Chen Changsheng finally understood why the Pope had made this arrangement.
The Pope wanted him to receive the help of the little Black Dragon, and he had also wanted him to learn Dragon language.
The Pope hoped that he could comprehend the final book of the three thousand scriptures, and wanted to remind him that Shang Xingzhou had probably comprehended some ancient Daos from this final book.
Why was a reminder necessary? This was also a sort of reminder.
It was clear that the Pope had expected long ago that this master and disciple would end up falling out due to a difference in ideals.
Upon understanding all this, Chen Changsheng said this to Shang Xingzhou:
"Master is not wrong. I truly was raised by Master, but Master, you did not bring me up, because you’ve never brought me up, never cared about me, never taught me anything. I was brought up by Senior Brother. He taught me many things. Senior Su Li also taught me many things, and there’s also Martial Uncle. What they taught me far exceeded what you taught me."
Shang Xingzhou said nothing, only stared at Chen Changsheng.
He had lost.
He had lost to that disciple in front of him who he hated the most, and he had also lost to that disciple on the other side of the wall who he loved the most.
He had lost to that junior brother who he had always looked down on.
What should he do now?
Let go and leave like some stray old dog, or...
Shang Xingzhou closed his eyes.
It was very abrupt.
Wang Zhice, Tang Thirty-Six, and Xu Yourong were all surprised.
Only Chen Changsheng remained calm, apparently having long expected this sight.
Shang Xingzhou closed his eyes, but he did not loosen his grip.
His hand was very firmly wrapped around Chen Changsheng’s throat.
Like a resilient pine tree, or a tough iron shackle.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Blood seemed to be spreading out from the depths of his eyes, meeting his black pupils and turning brown.
It was oil seeping out from a crack in the old pine.
Rust on the surface of the iron shackle.
He looked at Chen Changsheng, his eyes serene and determined.
There was no attempt to conceal his killing intent.
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"Since you were willing to bet, admit your defeat."
Wang Zhice shouted.
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A walking stick lay on the stone table.
Yuren was no longer there.
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Wings of white left two trails of fire in the air.
Xu Yourong vanished.
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The wind rose and clouds surged.
The mountainous body of the Black Frost Dragon crushed down onto the Orthodox Academy.
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Tang Thirty-Six clasped his hands to Shang Xingzhou and earnestly said, "There’s no need for this."
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Chen Changsheng said nothing.
He looked at Shang Xingzhou, his eyes similarly calm but even more determined.