Before the Mausoleum of Books, they had not seen each other for several years. After that, they were like strangers, even enemies. However, they were still master and disciple. They had lived together in Xining Village's old temple for ten-some years, so they understood each other to the extreme. Just from the slightest movement, even the change in their eyes, they knew what the other was thinking. This was what was called feeling.
Shang Xingzhou could feel Chen Chang Sheng's emotions when he pulled out the sword from the flower pot, which was why he asked that question.
But after getting Chen Chang Sheng's confirmation, he didn't relax, nor did he feel proud, but asked another question.
"Do you know what this place is?"
Chen Chang Sheng was the principal of the Tradition Academy. He had lived here for many years, but he really didn't know what these red buildings were. The Tradition Academy was too big. These years, the place where he studied and lived was limited to the forest near the Royal City and the vicinity of the mountains. It wasn't even one tenth of the size of the Tradition Academy.
Shang Xingzhou said, "This is the Maple Forest Pavilion. Those two rows of maple trees were moved here from the Bureau of Ecclesiastic Education."
Chen Chang Sheng thought to himself, no wonder he looked so familiar.
"Mei Lisha is my friend."
Shang Xingzhou looked at his face and said with mixed emotions, "He has always admired you. I didn't understand it, but now I'm starting to understand."
Hearing these words, Chen Chang Sheng didn't know if he should feel proud or gratified, or if he should let the bitterness in his heart freely spread. He could only remain silent.
At a time like this, what was the point of saying such words? Perhaps it was precisely because Shang Xingzhou had confirmed that Chen Chang Sheng's swords were about to be used up, and thought of Chen Chang Sheng's defeat or even death, that he was feeling sentimental? But what was so important about the arrival of this Maple Forest Pavilion?
Shang Xingzhou turned to look out of the building and said, "The final battle that year took place here."
That year was more than twenty years ago, the night of the bloody incident of the Orthodox Academy.
The Maple Forest Pavilion was so eye-catching. Perhaps it was because it had been stained with too much blood that night.
"That night, many people died here, many young people. They were as good as you, maybe even better than you."
Shang Xingzhou withdrew his gaze and looked at Chen Changsheng, saying, "I've seen too many deaths in my life. I really don't care anymore, so don't expect me to be soft-hearted."
The meaning of this sentence was very clear.
If Chen Chang Sheng still didn't admit defeat, he wouldn't be afraid of personally killing Chen Chang Sheng with his sword.
Chen Chang Sheng didn't admit defeat, he didn't even say anything, remaining silent.
He raised his right hand and held the dagger horizontally in front of him. The mud gradually fell, and the cold light gradually intensified.
Shang Xingzhou understood his choice and walked towards him.
A clear footprint appeared on the floor.
Each footprint glowed and then burst into flames.
After the clouds dispersed, in the blue sky, the sun was incomparably bright, shining upon the Orthodox Academy.
The Maple Forest Pavilion shone with a dazzling light, as if it was really burning. The maple trees outside swayed with the wind like tongues of fire.
This was a fire formed from the burning of countless years of thick blood. It emitted a faint charred smell and gave off a heroic and awe-inspiring feeling.
The blood and fire illuminated Shang Xingzhou's figure, making him look abnormally tall, like a demonic god.
This was his life, the lives of Wang Zhice, the Tang Old Master, and the others.
They would not give up their ideals and perseverance for anything.
There was a clear whistle.
A strong gale blew in the Maple Forest Pavilion.
The maple tree swayed even more violently, as if tongues of fire were spitting out, wanting to burn the heavens.
Shang Xingzhou gripped his dagger with both hands and slashed down, bringing with it a stream of blood and fire.
The blood and fire were bright and dazzling, but his figure was gloomy and cold. The contrast between the two was particularly striking.
With a boom, the blood and fire exploded into countless sparks that danced throughout the Maple Forest Pavilion, igniting the floor and pillars.
The dagger flew through the window. Chen Changsheng retreated ten-some steps and vomited blood.
Shang Xingzhou raised his sword and once more walked towards him.
No panic could be seen on Chen Changsheng's face.
He said to Shang Xingzhou, "Concede, Master."
From the very beginning, he had said these words.
In the lake, in front of Tibet, and in many other places, he would pick up a sword and say these words.
And then, those swords would be cut down by Shang Xingzhou.
Now, even his last sword had disappeared, but he was still saying these words.
Shang Xingzhou did not show any derision on his face, nor was he confused.
It seemed that he knew where Chen Changsheng's confidence came from.
Chen Changsheng raised his right hand.
There was nothing there except air and fire.
Could he really make a sword out of the air?
Not far away, the sound of air being cut could be heard.
Swish! A cold light pierced through the window and then vanished.
The dagger returned to Chen Changsheng's hand.
Soon after, countless sounds of air being cut could be heard from various parts of the Orthodox Academy.
These sounds were extremely sharp, naturally giving off a sharp feeling.
The sounds grew more and more frequent, like a torrential rain, but even more like a torrential rain of arrows.
Countless sword glows lit up from the bottom of the plum tree, in the tree, and in the water.
The old plum tree had been neatly cut, looking like an incense burner that had been burning for three days and three nights.
Ten holes appeared on the severed ancient tree, truly like a flute used by a god.
Countless ripples appeared in the lake, like several hundred fat carps struggling to swim up from the rotting mud.
Those swords that Tang Thirty-Six had hidden in the Orthodox Academy.
Those swords that Chen Changsheng had found.
Those swords that Shang Xingzhou had struck down.
Flying through the air.
Flying towards the Maple Forest Pavilion.
Several dozen swords arrived at Chen Changsheng's side.
Shang Xingzhou looked at him and said, "Not enough."
Chen Changsheng's finger lightly tapped the dagger.
A crisp sword cry scattered in all directions, carrying with it several dozen cold and extremely pure sword intents.
With a light crack, Shang Xingzhou's Daoist bun was severed.
For that seemingly ordinary ebony bun to be severed at this moment was definitely not ordinary.
Countless cold glows surged out from within, like great rivers, exuding a feeling of excitement.
Fierce winds blew, chopping the swaying maple tree into pieces, madly dancing red shards flying in all directions.
The eaves of the pavilion were cut into countless straight lines, the red walls and pillars cut into countless mottled lines.
Even the flames that were about to be ignited by the sun also needed to be attached to an objective object.
Without the skin, a tall building would collapse, so how could blood and fire be sustained?
The tongues of flame burning towards the sky gradually faded, their color also gradually faded, until they ultimately vanished into nothingness.
Sunlight spilled over the ruined Maple Forest Pavilion.
Several thousand swords quietly floated around Chen Changsheng.
Cold and terrifying sword intents filled the world.
These sword intents were faintly connected to an array, flowing and circulating, endlessly multiplying, giving off an impenetrable feeling.
Chen Changsheng looked at Shang Xingzhou and asked, "Is it enough now?"
… …
… …
(The Maple Forest Pavilion, from the nature of a hero, Brother Ma. I prepared this scene more than two years ago, not long after Choosing Heaven's Will began. I especially like it.) (To be continued …)
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