The news that Wang Po might come to the capital quickly spread, causing many people to be astonished.
After Su Li, Wang Po became the greatest idol in the hearts of the younger generation of cultivators on the continent.
He was not as free and at ease as Su Li, nor was he as charming, cold and emotionless, but he was also a cultivation genius rarely seen in a hundred years. He had once forced Snow-Treading Xun Mei to guard the Mausoleum of Books, not giving Painted Armor Xiao Zhang or Liang Wangsun any chance. There were many experts beneath the Divine Domain, such as Xue Xingchuan. Even though he was ranked at the top of the Proclamation of Liberation, he was publicly acknowledged as the strongest.
And compared to Su Li, he was more in line with the common definition of a hero, such as that night rain in Xunyang City.
Most importantly, the aura of legend about him was too thick. As the only descendant of a declining clan, he had grown up in an extremely vile environment, even more arduous than other cultivation geniuses. After working as an accountant in the Wenshui Tangs for a few years, he began to travel the world. In just ten-some years, he established Scholartree Manor in the south and became a local tyrant.
Just like Su Moyu, upon learning of this news, everyone's greatest question was: why had he come to the capital, and what was he preparing to do?
The allusion to Wang Po of Tianliang was a story known to the entire continent. As a descendant of the Wang clan, the meaning behind his name, Wang Po, was obvious. Perhaps it was for this reason that the Imperial Court had always been wary of him and had attempted to suppress him countless times. He was also well aware of this, so he rarely appeared in the capital.
Wang Po coming to the capital was naturally a major event.
In the past, even if he came to the capital, he would come noiselessly and inconspicuously, such as on the night of Xun Mei's death.
The present situation was completely different. Even if he wanted to enter the capital in a low-profile manner, he could not do so.
On that night in the Mausoleum of Books, Zhu Luo had not yet recovered from his heavy injuries and had forcefully taken action, initiating the grand battle of the entire world against Tianhai. He had paid the price of his body and soul, all for the sake of obtaining the promise that the new government represented by Shang Xingzhou would make — that the Wang clan would never be able to rise again.
The Wang clan was Wang Po.
If Wang Po had remained in the south and quietly guarded Scholartree Manor, with the Mount Li Sword Sect and the other sects watching out for him, the Imperial Court would not have been able to move against him, as the confluence of the north and south required a superficial peace. But if he left Scholartree Manor and entered the capital alone, the Imperial Court would never let go of this chance.
No matter how strong he was, he was no match for the Great Zhou Imperial Court.
If he appeared in the capital, the court had countless methods to kill him.
Therefore, no one understood why he had come.
Chen Changsheng understood, because he and Wang Po had gone through thick and thin together in Xunyang City.
He admired this powerful warrior very much. In the past two years, he had been trying to learn from him. This was also what Tang Thirty Six was worried about.
Besides Chen Chang Sheng, there was another person who clearly understood Wang Po's intentions.
That was Zhou Tong himself.
Therefore, when he heard the news, he immediately went to the palace and asked to see Shang Xingzhou.
Not long after he entered the palace, the situation in the capital grew tense once more. From the Ministry of Military Affairs to the Ministry of Justice, from the Department for Purging Officials to the City Gate Department, countless experts and assassins began to search the streets.
Chen Chang Sheng was a little worried. After thinking for a whole night, he risked asking people from the Orthodoxy to help him search, but he didn't find anything.
The imperial court did not find anything either.
No one could find Wang Po.
He disappeared just like that.
…
…
Time passed slowly, and the feeling of autumn became stronger and stronger.
The celebration of the confluence of the north and south was approaching, and the Great Zhou Imperial Court had made many preparations. All the famous buildings in the capital had been renovated, and even the Mausoleum of Books had been tidied up.
But the mood in the capital was not completely cheerful or relaxed, because the aftermath of the coup of the Mausoleum of Books had still not completely dissipated, the Orthodox Academy was still unwilling to hand over the Divine Empress's body, and Wang Po had still not been found.
At this time, the Orthodox Academy received two letters. One came from Holy Maiden Peak, personally written by Xu Yourong.
She had returned to South Stream Temple, and logically speaking, she should have called back the disciples of South Stream Temple. This was also mentioned in the letter, but she still left behind eighteen girls for Chen Changsheng.
Chen Changsheng was well aware that these female disciples controlled the spirit of the South Stream Temple sword array. If they used their full strength, as long as they were not attacked by an expert of the Divine Domain or an army, he would be safe.
The other letter came from Wenshui, personally written by Tang Thirty Six.
Besides Chen Changsheng, no one knew the contents of this letter, not even Su Moyu.
Su Moyu and the teachers and students of the Orthodox Academy only knew that after Chen Changsheng read the letter, he was in an extremely low mood and fell silent for a very long time.
Golden ginkgo leaves covered the ground of New North Bridge.
Not far away was the Imperial Palace. Light shone from within and fell on the ground, as if the setting sun had returned to the world.
Standing under the tree and seeing this sight, Chen Changsheng silently thought, the sun will not return when it sets, and the friends that have left, it seems like they will not have the chance to return.
The entire world seemed to be golden, causing the color of the well to seem even more serene and serene.
When the light in the Imperial Palace slightly dimmed, Chen Changsheng's figure disappeared from under the tree. A breeze stirred up at the edge of the well, causing the golden leaves to flutter about. It was a very beautiful sight.
The ginkgo leaves outside the Imperial City were a very famous sight in the capital.
Very few people knew that outside the capital, there was a Daoist temple called Tan Zhe. That place had a similar scenery, perhaps even more beautiful.
In the middle of the courtyard behind the Daoist temple, there was an extremely old ginkgo tree. According to legend, it was personally planted by Emperor Taizong. When autumn came, the ancient tree would be covered in golden leaves, resembling golden clouds, and also resembling fireworks. The base of the tree was also covered in leaves, piled up in a thick pile, resembling a golden cloud descending to the ground. If seen from a distance, it would resemble a golden waterfall.
In the depths of the golden ginkgo leaves, there was a stone table and beside the table was a stone stool. At this moment, there was a person sitting on the stool. He was not drinking tea, but was comprehending the blade.
The entire continent knew that he had come to the capital. Countless people searched the capital for traces of him, but to no avail. This was because although he had come to the capital, he had not entered the city.
If the common people were to know of this, they would definitely be shocked, because this was completely different from his usual conduct.
In the people's view, since he had come to the capital, he would definitely enter the capital. Because his person was just like his path of the blade, both were straight.
Zhou Tong had also thought this way, but he was also wrong.
Wang Po had already stayed at Tan Zhe Temple for eleven days.
Every day, he would come to meditate under the ginkgo tree.
He comprehended the blade, but did not practice it. The metal blade was always sheathed, the sheath on his knee.
The ancient tree incessantly shed its leaves, covering the earth. It was so pure and dazzling that it was difficult to imagine what lay beneath the leaves.
Those golden leaves would naturally fall on his body, piling up in his clothes and gradually covering the sheath, making it difficult to imagine what the blade in the sheath looked like.
Wang Po's path of the blade, in this sky full of yellow leaves, was faintly changing.
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