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Edited by: Michyrr

The wind both inside and outside the Mausoleum of Books suddenly stopped, as did any sound.

The entire world seemed to freeze, both time and space.

The two sides had reached a stalemate, a deadlock.

This momentary balance was extremely fragile. Any variable, a wisp of wind or a single sound, could trigger countless cruel massacres, flooding the capital in seas of fire and blood, burning both prosperity and ambition into ashes.

Rarely did people dare to make a decision on the important crossroads of history.

Xu Yourong had proved that she could do it. Floods drowning out the world or a plunge into the bottomless abyss would not even cause her eyelashes to tremble.

And everyone knew that she would not quietly wait forever.

The Imperial Court’s black-armored cavalry were galloping back to the capital.

If Shang Xingzhou was not willing to accept her demands, she would assuredly begin her assault before their arrival.

And at this crucial moment, the other important figure seemed to be asleep.

The Prince of Zhongshan looked in that person’s direction and raised his brow.

No one wanted to see the negotiations between Xu Yourong and Shang Xingzhou break down except this brother of his.

The Prince of Xiang was an expert of the Divine Domain and had a deep backing within the court. He also possessed a formidable strength in the military.

If both the Imperial Court and the Orthodoxy came away with severe injuries and the experts of the north and south engaged in battle after bloody battle, who could stop him from ascending to the throne?

Xu Yourong and Shang Xingzhou were probably both aware of this, but neither of them mentioned the matter.

Because this was also one of the chips they were negotiating with.

The crux upon which the success of the negotiations ultimately hinged was still that demand.

The problem was that this was such a callous and unyielding demand that not even someone who had no opinion on life, such as the novice cook of some tavern in the western part of the capital who had lived the dullest, most mediocre, and extremely tough life, would be willing to agree to it. How could Shang Xingzhou?

......

......

There was no wind, but the white robe’s hem drifted about like a paper flower.

Compared to actual flowers, paper flowers were cleaner, plainer, more tragic.

Xu Yourong stood on the Divine Path, her hands held behind her as she looked down upon the capital.

Her expression was very calm, but her beautiful and delicate features seemed to give off a grandiose aura.

Like she was standing before the ocean or observing the world.

Shang Xingzhou suddenly felt like he was looking at Tianhai—the Tianhai from many years ago, when she was still young.

The first time he saw that girl was back when Taizong was still alive, in the Imperial Palace.

At the time, he did not hate her. On the contrary, he admired her, or else he would not have chosen to help her ascend to the throne.

The Tianhai of that time was also very beautiful, but whether she was looking at that horse or Emperor Taizong, she always had a very emotionless expression.

This was precisely why Shang Xingzhou admired her.

If the heavens were to have feelings, they too would age. Only the emotionless could succeed at great undertakings.

Shang Xingzhou also deeply admired Xu Yourong.

Today, every word Xu Yourong had said, from her analysis of the overarching situation to her plot against Prince Chen Liu all the way until her final description of the world in chaos, assaulted the things he cared the most about, the thinnest part of his heart. At the same time, she was also doing one other important thing.

She was proving herself to Shang Xingzhou.

He had overturned the Tianhai Divine Empress’s rule, returned the government to the Chen Imperial clan, and become the number one individual in the world.

Shang Xingzhou’s life had reached perfection. He had no other desires except that one.

In demanding that he choose to give up and retreat, Xu Yourong had to prove that she could accomplish that task.

Chen Changsheng perhaps could not, and not even Yuren might be able to realize Taizong’s dying wish, because they were good people.

But she could.

Because she was not a good person, as everything today had proved.

’You want to exterminate the demons. I can do it. You want the humans to unite the world. I can also do that.

’And when the time comes, the Pope will still have the surname Chen, the Emperor will still have the surname Chen, and the human dynasty recorded in the history books will always have the surname Chen.

’Is there anything else that you are not content about? Anything else that you can’t give up?’

If her threats to Shang Xingzhou’s dreams, those callous methods, were waves that scraped the sky, the proofs that came with them were that calm underwater world. The two working together created countless waves, one after the other, stretching up into the sky and seeking to crush all resistance.

"The situation you have constructed today can be rated as perfect, grand enough to destroy the world and subtle enough to needle directly at one’s heart. It truly is difficult to break."

Shang Xingzhou looked at Xu Yourong with both admiration and regret. "Because the people who can threaten you are not your enemies."

These last words had a rather complicated meaning and sounded somewhat awkward, but they understood what it meant.

"Chen Changsheng trusts me, so he remained silent this entire time. Alas, he was wrong."

Xu Yourong said, "Of course, I know that he will definitely have prepared some things, so I have also prepared myself for them."

Shang Xingzhou ruefully sighed, "I didn’t think that you would not even let him go."

Xu Yourong said, "Since I want to defeat you, I naturally have to defeat your two students first."

Was this the reason for that conversation in the palace and the chat over stewed beef ribs in Fortune Peace Road?

Shang Xingzhou quietly gazed at her, then he suddenly said, "If I had not convinced him, perhaps you really would have won today."

As his words dropped, a wind suddenly stirred within the Mausoleum of Books, whisking away the bits of stone and grass on the Divine Path.

The wind had stirred because a cloud had descended.

A cloud on the horizon landed on the southern suburbs of the capital and then drifted toward the Mausoleum of Books.

The seal of the Mausoleum of Books seemed to have no effect on this cloud. It was not long before the cloud had drifted to the base of the Divine Path.

The person Shang Xingzhou had mentioned was sitting atop the cloud, a scholar dressed in simple cloth.

Within and without the Mausoleum of Books, tens of thousands of people who saw this scholar riding the cloud engaged in shocked speculation, and then they erupted in joy and ecstasy.

Xu Yourong looked at the middle-aged scholar, her expression still serene, but she felt a light fatigue on her mind.

And then, she felt a little derision, though this remained in her mind as well.

......

......

Hu Thirty-Two looked with a rather unpleasant expression at the dense crowd of people gathered at the plaza.

When Chen Changsheng said in that restaurant on Fortune Peace Road that he believed Xu Yourong would not do such a thing, he had become very worried.

Today’s events had proved that his worries were well-founded.

An Hua was leading several hundred believers in kneeling on the plaza, each pair of hands clasping a bright and sharp knife.

Their request was very simple. They implored the Pope to not leave the Li Palace today and to not involve himself in the matter taking place at the Mausoleum of Books.

If Chen Changsheng was not willing to agree to their request, they would commit suicide in front of Chen Changsheng.

They were Chen Changsheng’s most ardent followers, and there was no doubt that they would do such a thing for Chen Changsheng and the great cause of the Orthodoxy.

Hu Thirty-Two turned to glance at that quiet hall. He felt even more worried, but this was clearly because of another problem.

Chen Changsheng had said nothing to those voices coming from outside the hall.

The gray-robed elder with the brush said impatiently, "Hurry and tell this pack of fools to shut up!"

It was extremely rare to find a person who would dare treat the Pope with such disrespect.

In truth, when they first met in Mount Han, this elder had treated Chen Changsheng with great disdain.

The Demon Lord had sought to eat Chen Changsheng back then, and this old man and that traveling scholar had appeared together.

That this old man had appeared within the Li Palace in that stone room and watched Chen Changsheng for so many days was naturally on that scholar’s orders.

Chen Changsheng was the Pope, but he also seemed incapable of refusing that scholar.

And many people thought that this scholar had good intentions.

By now, Chen Changsheng naturally knew this old man’s identity.

He was the one acclaimed across the entire world in Taizong’s era as the Painting Sage, Daoist Wu.

He had painted all those portraits in the Lingyan Pavilion.

The day Daoist Wu walked out of the gray wall, Chen Changsheng knew that Xu Yourong had lost.

She had still ended up underestimating his master, or perhaps it was better to say that she had underestimated these elders.

These elders were precisely those elders he had thought about on that deserted street in Wenshui.

It was those elders who had experienced countless wars, blood and fire, who had truly seen the world transform from seas into mulberry fields.

Chen Changsheng and Daoist Wu walked out of the hall.

Hu Thirty-Two looked with surprise at the gray-robed elder, but he did not dare ask. He stepped forward, up to Chen Changsheng’s ear, and began to softly advise him how to proceed.

Daoist Wu grew increasingly impatient.

Chen Changsheng gazed at the gray and overcast sky and suddenly declared, "Strike."

Cavalry began to charge from Grass Moon Hall, dust rising in their wake.

Hu Thirty-Two’s expression instantly changed. He wanted to kneel and continue pleading, but Chen Changsheng moved away.

Hu Thirty-Two’s body leaned forward, falling toward Daoist Wu.

At some point, an extremely gloomy dagger had appeared in his hand.

His face continued to appear anguished and troubled, but his eyes were extremely calm.

Like the gloomy blade glow flying through the sky, they attracted no attention whatsoever.

Daoist Wu’s face instantly changed and a whistle burst from his lips. An unimaginably powerful energy descended together with his brush.

With a light pop, a gloomy willow branch flew through the air and caught the brush.

The Falling Star Stone appeared like the abyss of the Netherworld on the plaza, attracting everyone’s attention and creating a barrier.

With a squelch, the dagger plunged into Daoist Wu’s foot, causing blood to spurt out.

Hu Thirty-Two’s head was lowered, his body half-kneeled. With an impassive expression, he extracted his dagger and stabbed it into Daoist Wu’s belly.