Ze Tian Ji

Chapter 883 – The Surging of the River Also Cannot Wash Away This Hatred

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

Because of Chen Changshengʼs visit and the arrivals of the Imperial Courtʼs diplomatic mission and the representatives of the various factions, South Stream Temple was under heavy guard today. On the plateau, disciples were standing guard in the flowering trees, and one could faintly sense several dozen sword intents in the vicinity of the path, waiting to be activated. If an external foe were to come, the sword array would assuredly be able to activate in the shortest time possible.

When those South Stream Temple disciples saw him, they bowed, one of them asking, ”Where is Your Holiness going?”

As this girl asked her question, the other disciples all smirked at him, presumably having already guessed at his destination.

Chen Changsheng thanked them for their troubles and, somewhat embarrassed, pointed at the summit. ”Iʼm going over there to take a look.”

The forest resounded with the laughter of these disciples, clear and pleasant, like the song of nightingales.

It was truly difficult to imagine that if the temple really did close itself off for ten years, this clear and moving laughter would no longer be heard. This would truly be the worldʼs misfortune.

……

……

On this journey to the summit, Chen Changsheng was naturally no longer willing to climb the mountain again. Wind blew through the forest, causing the flowers to sway, exuding their aroma to the surroundings. The White Crane flapped its wings and took flight, quickly reaching the summit.

Chen Changsheng walked to the stone wall and pulled aside the vines. He silently stood there for a long time, but, failing to calm his mind, turned and left.

The Luomei Mountains were formed from countless peaks, with the Holy Maiden Peak being the highest. Here, the mountains were the closest to the night sky, the light of the countless stars somewhat dazzling.

He had once gone to that solitary mountain in the Cloud Grave. He had reached a very high altitude, but he had been surrounded by clouds, so he had never seen such bright stars.

Starlight enveloped the summit like water, clearly illuminating the lines on the stone monoliths.

Chen Changsheng gazed at those monolith inscriptions, comparing them to the monolith inscriptions in the Mausoleum of Books, slowly comprehending.

Time slowly passed, and on this solemn starry night, he woke from his meditation. Walking to the cliff, he glanced at the distant foot of the mountain.

He saw the light of countless lanterns, appearing just like the stars, but much dimmer. These were presumably the Imperial Courtʼs diplomatic mission and the representatives from the noble clans and great sects.

South Stream Temple truly wanted to cut itself off from the world for ten years? After seeing the Heavenly Tome Monolith rubbings and touching upon the wisdom of the first Holy Maiden, he wasnʼt even thinking of this question. Instead, he took out another book related to the temple sword and began to read, just like he had done yesterday afternoon. Gradually, a fierce sword intent appeared by the cliff.

This sword intent originated from his fingers and fell on the distant sky of stars and the earth of the mortal world.

……

……

The Tong River arose from the depths of the Luomei Mountains, flowed past Holy Maiden Peak, and merged with the River of Hatred, which flowed west, cleaving through another mountain range and entering a canyon.

In the canyon, twenty-some li from Fengyang City, the dark river surged with a thunderous momentum.

On a rock in the river, two people suddenly appeared. No matter how frightening the force of the water, it was not worth the attention of these two people.

Because they were true experts who had the right to disregard the force of nature, and also because their hearts were currently fraught with worry and anxiety.

One was a Daoist nun dressed in a deep-blue Daoist robe. Her eyes were slightly sunken and lifeless. Her face was pale and utterly devoid of her usual viciousness. It was Wuqiong Bi.

Bie Yanghong was still dressed as a scholar, but his usual composed and indifferent visage now appeared much graver, and one could faintly see a tinge of sorrow.

”It canʼt be true, it canʼt be true, my beloved child must have been naughty… and accidentally broke it.”

Wuqiong Bi was muttering to herself, her face growing paler and paler, her eyes dimmer and dimmer. She found that she could not deceive herself.