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Edited by: Michyrr

Wang Po was born in Tianliang and was thus no southerner, but because of those grudges he had with the Great Zhou Imperial Court, the people of the south were more than willing to accept him.

As a result, when he became master of Scholartree Manor, he was not confronted with vigilance and hostility, but welcome.

Compared to Su Li, Wang Po had a temperament and character much more amenable to the southerners, was more trustworthy and reliable.

To put it another way, he was far more suitable than Su Li to be the flagbearer of the south, but first, he needed to raise that flag.

All the south had been waiting for the day when he broke through and became Divine, but no one had expected that day to come so soon, so suddenly that no preparations had been made.

Today, his blade had cut through the sky of the capital and raised the flag to let it flap in the wind, and the south finally welcomed its flagbearer.

Other than those legendary existences for which there was no written record, he was the youngest person ever to enter the Divine Domain.

Perhaps in the future, a person in the generation of youths represented by Qiushan Jun might surpass this achievement, but no one could know for sure.

......

......

On the shore of the Luo River, the three carriages slowly retreated, the willow branches swaying in the breeze powerless to detain them.

The Tang Second Master watched this scene with an incredibly gloomy expression, but did nothing. The two Divine Generals and the several hundred cavalry of the Imperial Guard also kept silent.

The three carriages did not seem that remarkable, but they represented the entire south, and their stance was exceptionally clear.

They could do nothing, as their actions would be tantamount to the Imperial Court and the Wenshui Tangs engaging in hostilities with the entire south.

No person could bear this responsibility, not even someone like the Tang Second Master, an important personage dispatched to the capital by the Wenshui Tangs.

In the entire capital, even the entire continent, there was only one person able to bear such a responsibility.

The venerable master of the Dao, Shang Xingzhou.

The Tang Second Master drew back his gaze from that sight and turned to look northward.

Two tasks needed to be done today, and one had already failed. The remaining task was even more important.

The position of Pope represented the Orthodoxy’s vast ocean of resources and power, so not a single problem could be allowed to occur.

Chen Changsheng had to die.

The clouds and snow were like a flock of sheep urged on by the whip as they slowly traveled across the gloomy sky.

The Saint from White Emperor City was in the Li Palace, momentarily keeping things in balance.

The southerners would not concern themselves with Chen Changsheng’s life or death, nor did they care about the ultimate successor of the Orthodoxy. And someone like the Qiushan clan head was more than willing to see Chen Changsheng die.

There was probably no one coming to Chen Changsheng’s rescue.

Viewed this way, one could barely consider themselves to have broken even from today’s events.

......

......

The three carriages departed the capital with no one blocking their way.

The snow-covered Wuli Plains were visible across the Bai River. Once they crossed the bridge, they would be on the road back to the south.

Guan Feibai asked the carriage to stop, said a few words to the Qiushan clan head, bowed, then prepared to leave.

The curtain of the front carriage was lifted, revealing Wang Po’s still rather wan face.

"What are you going to do?"

Guan Feibai replied, "That guy is probably in a lot of trouble. I’m going to see if I can help him out a little."

He spoke very naturally, as if this was the expected course of action. Thus, even the steadiness of his voice gave off an aura of bold self-confidence.

Wang Po smiled and thought to himself, the Mount Li Sword Sect is truly extraordinary. These young disciples are all much stronger than Senior Su Li.

"There’s no need to go. That fellow has his own plans and doesn’t require any more help," he explained.

As they had walked from the Assistant Minister’s estate to the northern part of the city, they had chatted about many things by the Luo River. They had spoken of Wang Zhice and the Garden of Zhou, the path of the blade and the soul of the sword, and, naturally, they had chatted about that mission they were about to undertake.

That fellow had requested his help in hindering Tie Shu, but he had made no other request.

Wang Po had done even more, slaying Tie Shu, so that fellow could naturally finish off everything else.

......

......

Snow fell amongst the ruins, falling onto that fellow’s shoulders.

A sword glow stretched out of the snowstorm like a lightning bolt.

At this moment, the sword glow was still ten-some zhang from Chen Changsheng, but its arrival was imminent. Such a distance practically did not exist with respect to a Star Condensation expert’s sword.

Chen Changsheng did not look at it, his eyes remaining fixed on Xiao De. He treated that sword glow as if it didn’t exist, making him seem excessively arrogant.

But it was not so in reality. The moment this sword glow appeared, he had already struck with his sword, but only the nearby Xiao De had noticed.

A crisp clang resonated through this courtyard located in the depths of the alley of the Northern Military Department.

It was the sound of two swords clashing.

The snow instantly dispersed as an expert of the Department for Purging Officials was forced into revealing himself as he retreated with a groan.

A chip the size of a grain of rice appeared on the sword in his hands.

This sword was the sword of his sect and he treasured it dearly, but he had no time to be heartbroken, as his heart was utterly overcome with shock.

He stared at the air in front of him, his face so pale that it was like he had seen a ghost.

An ancient sword floated in the air, giving off a low hum.

What sort of sword was this? How was it able to damage his sect’s sword?

More importantly....where had this sword come from?

While he floundered in a state of shock, another sword glow stabbed towards Chen Changsheng from the snow.

This sword glow was even more sinister, rising up from the ground two feet away and approaching from a remarkably crafty angle. It even carried a little aura of the sword style used by the shaman tribe.

Chen Changsheng saw this sword glow, but he still did not move.

The snow flurried and an old sword appeared in front of the sword glow, seemingly popping out of midair.

The two swords clashed several times.

With a yowl, an assassin of the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets tumbled from a tree and into the snow, blood pouring out of a wound on his left arm.

"What’s going on!"

The assassin shouted in shock as he used a movement technique and madly waved his sword, exhausting all his methods to resist the old sword’s pursuit.

Then several thunderclaps boomed through the air.

Several experts of the Great Zhou Army, who had been attempting a surprise attack, groaned as they were jolted back towards the walls of the courtyard.

The hands they were using to hold their swords were trembling and their faces were grave.

Several more swords appeared in the air, but these swords were much thicker and heavier than the swords from earlier.

Even after being corroded by the passing of centuries, these heavy swords still held a terrifying might.

A strange atmosphere enveloped the entire courtyard.

No one else attacked.

With a hum, the old sword chasing the assassin from the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets flew through the snow and floated in front of Chen Changsheng.

Ten-some swords quietly floated in the air around his body, carrying the snowflakes falling from the sky and guarding all angles.

These swords had different appearances and different Qis, but they all shared one common trait: they were all very old.

There was even some rust still visible on some of these swords, but it could not conceal their sharpness.

This sight made the experts of the Imperial Court recall that rumor. Their faces turned incredibly grim, and some even began to show fear.

If that rumor was true, then these swords were only the beginning.

Just as expected, they soon heard many more sounds.

Clangclangclangclang!

This was not the sound of swords rubbing against their sheaths, but the edges of the swords tearing through the air.

Countless swords flew from Chen Changsheng’s body.

They were like a school of fish constantly swimming about a deep pond.

Sword intent exploded in the courtyard and sword glows burst forth, burying even the wind and snow beneath them.