Translator: Transn  Editor: Transn

Ning Que lowered his head, standing on the snowy street. Blood incessantly flowed from the holes in his fingers and was frozen, to be then flushed apart by fresh blood, making him look truly miserable.

He held the array eye pestle in one hand and the hilt of his blade in the other. However, he could not write a single talisman, nor did he have the strength to wave his blade. If the podao had not been supporting his weight, he might have collapsed in a second.

He did not look at the Abbey Dean's eyes because he might die if they made eye contact. He could only look at the Abbey Dean's legs, in the lowliest way.

He was covered in blood; his own, but mostly belonging to the ordinary people who had died in the hands of the Abbey Dean earlier. He felt that this blood was even hotter than his own.

His blood was heated as their blood splashed onto him. However, what saddened him was that his body and his heart were both cold.

No matter how indignant he was, he was overwhelmed by the coldness of the Quietus. He could not find any strength within him and was only left with exhaustion and helplessness.

Numerous “Yi” talismans were still floating in the streets and alleys of Chang'an City. They were hidden in the snow and had not dissipated with the help of the G.o.d-stunning Array.

This was Ning Que's most powerful skill. But it was also proven to be useless against the Abbey Dean.

He looked at the Abbey Dean's feet and seemed to see countless of ant corpses under his soles. These ants were brave and fearless, and it was a pity that they had all died.

The bravery that had stunned many could not change the distance between Heaven and mankind. What else could the people on Earth do other than surrender to Haotian? What was the point of being indignant?

The Abbey Dean practiced cultivation all his life in Haotian's ruthlessness. He was a calculative person and was well versed in exercising tolerance. One who could tolerate others was absolutely heartless.

The Tangs who had rushed to their deaths on the snowy street today might not have changed the ending of the battle today, but he was shocked by the incredible image before him.

It was not that he could not help feeling bad for them, but he did not understand.

The Abbey Dean had seen many who could face their end calmly, but they were all Grand Cultivators who were in the Beyond the Mortality State, and few of them were ordinary folk.

But many of these ordinary people in Chang'an were welcoming death calmly, and all at the same time. This was unexpected, or perhaps, one could say that it was beyond his appraisal of the common people.

“The Tangs… perhaps, they might really be a little special.”

The Abbey Dean clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the old, weak, women and children before him. He looked at the faces devoid of any fear and suddenly asked, “Is there anyone who can accept dying like ants?”

Old Master Chao was the one who answered his question.

Old Master Chao hobbled to the front of the crowd with the aid of his cane. He said, “Acceptance is sweet. Acceptance is comfortable. How can we make ourselves comfortable? I don't know what the people out there would answer. But to us old residents of Chang'an, we will feel comfortable as long as we do not feel shame in death.”

“So this is how one can explain acceptance.”

The Abbey Dean looked at Old Master Chao and said, “You are not an ordinary person. How should I address you?”

Old Master Chao replied, “My surname is Chao. The younger generation call me second uncle. I think I am older than you; you can just call me second uncle Chao so it's not demeaning to you.”

“There is nothing special about me. We are just ordinary folk. However, no matter whether we are the most ordinary or are like you, the most extraordinary, we are all human. We will all die.”

The meaning behind the old master's words was clear. No matter whether they were the Abbey Dean of Zhishou Abbey or Haotian believers, they would all become an urn of sand or ash in the end. Then, they would all be equal.

“That is why there are so many people fighting to seek death.”

The Abbey Dean looked thoughtfully at the corpses of the Tangs littering the Vermilion Bird Avenue.

“We, the Tangs, have always had the tradition of seeking death.”

Old Master Chao's expression turned solemn as he said, “In the first battle with the other countries, there was not a single Tang citizen who surrendered in the storm. The Tangs did not surrender in the war against the Desolate. The Tang Empire has a history spanning a thousand years since we started on the Sishui River. There were many generations who have sought death bravely. The Tang Empire is strong because we are unafraid of death.”

“Back then, Taizu (Founder of the Tang Dynasty) did not hesitate to risk the country's safety and exhausted the nation's powers just for a single messenger. He sent the army to the northern wilderness and only returned when all the enemies were slain.The only girl in the Academy had dared to fight both the Buddhism and Taoism sects.Mr. Second smashed the Buddha statue at Lanke before he felt appeased. The Tang Empire is strong because it is unafraid to hate.

“The Tang Empire is strong because of the Tangs.” Old Master Chao looked at the Abbey Dean and said in a wizened voice, “Tang Empire has always been filled with hardworking people. Strong people who dared to stake their lives. In the face of unfairness and abuse, there will be people who dare to speak up against all of it. Facing the invasion, there will be people who would bravely seek to go to their deaths…”

The Southern Army was in the forests of the Xiao Mountain, struggling towards the Verdant Canyon.

The cold rain slipped through their collars, draining away the warmth and bringing forth sickness. Soldiers fell off the cliff from time to time. His companions would stand by the edge of the cliff silently for a moment before continuing forward.

They looked down tiredly, refusing to stop even though they knew that they were late. They rushed forward, running wildly, risking their lives.

Yang Erxi slashed a barbarian from the Eastern Wilderness.

He treasured the cutla.s.s gained on the battlefield. He kept the blade in its sheath and retrieved the pitch-fork from his back. Then, he stabbed it down forcefully to ensure that the barbarian was completely dead.

The sounds of killing in the field calmed gradually.

He wiped away the sweat on his forehead and looked around, panting heavily. Then, he saw several of his companions lying on the field that were dusted with a thin layer of snow.

The battle had ended. He stood before several new graves silently for a long time. Then, he looked at the direction his hometown was in. He missed his wife's braised pork trotters a lot.

He still had not finished painting the school's walls.

Back then, he had felt that the yamen was not paying him fairly and he had insisted on not doing the job. He had fought with the Village Head and even almost smashed the wine table. He prepared to lodge a lawsuit at the county government. But he had accepted the job unwillingly after being unable to bear his daughter's anger and his wife's natterings.

He had only painted half of the wall when he saw the notice. He had carried his pitch-fork, some wine and meat, and left his hometown for the distant Eastern Border. He did not know when he would be able to finish the walls.

He did not know if the paint job would ever be finished.

By him.

Yang Erxi looked at the direction of his hometown, thinking about the things that troubled him. He frowned angrily, and his newly scabbed wound tore open again.

Blood flowed downwards. He raised his arm and wiped it carelessly with his sleeve. He suddenly thought of the teacher in the school and thought that he would not be angry about the unfinished wall.

And he started smiling happily.

The battle on Xiangwan Plain was still progressing ferociously.

The short officer was forced to kneel on one knee by the barbarians' cutla.s.ses and was in a perilous situation.

The officer struggled to hold on.

A dark figure flew up at the side, bas.h.i.+ng down forcefully on the barbarians.

The bright cutla.s.ses slid across the seemingly blazing meadow.

The dark figure fell onto the ground. There were two blades in his chest and he was bleeding heavily, looking as if he was on the brink of death.

The officer recognized that it was his escort servant.

He yelled anguishedly. The podao in his hands rose as he moved to stab it at his opponent.

At this moment, he did not consider that the cutla.s.ses above his head would cleave him into halves.

He was very lucky.

He killed the barbarians surrounding him and he did not die.

One of his shoulders was wounded, and blood flowed from it like wine flowing out of a slashed wine bag.

What was most dangerous was that his helmet had been knocked off by the enemy's knife.

The enemy's blade had cut his bun after the helmet was knocked off.

Black hair fell over the officer's shoulders. Coupled with the beautiful features that were not covered by armor, everyone could see that the officer was actually a woman.

She was Situ Yilan.

She carried the heavy podao, covered in wounds, filled with anger. She brought the last of her subordinates and started the fight again. She did not know when the fight would end, but she knew that they would fight to death or victory.

“There is this saying in Chang'an, that we can entrust our orphans…”

Old Master Chao looked at the Abbey Dean and continued.

At this time, the Imperial Palace in the distance was enshrouded in the storm and snow.

Tang Xiaotang stood on the snowy grounds in front of the palace, looking at the south silently.

The Empress held the little Emperor's hand, standing behind the railings. She stared at the thickening snow outside the palace.

Coughs rang out from the end of the snowy street. Eldest Brother appeared.

His cotton jacket had long been torn and was in disarray. Cotton that was as white as snow leaked out from it. Some parts were dyed red, looking like crimson flowers.

It was refres.h.i.+ng and moving.

Ning Que stood on the end of the street and was covered in blood.

He held the array eye pestle. The blood had frozen his palm and the pestle together.

This pestle, this array, this city. They were entrusted to him by his teachers and His Majesty.

Then, he would never let it go until his death.

The hand that Old Master Chao used to hold the cane shook slightly. His voice brightened all of a sudden.

“And we can entrust our lives…”

In front of the Verdant Canyon.

Jun Mo's clothing was once more put together, and his crown was straight.

He held his iron sword in one hand and looked at the enemy cavalry in the wildlands.

He was expressionless as he began to burn up the last of his Psyche Power.

It was as if Heaven and Earth had sensed the heat that was his life force burning. The gradually tapering rain suddenly stopped, and the clouds above the wildlands gradually disappeared, revealing a blue line that was the sky.

Sunlight streamed down through the cracks in the cloud, s.h.i.+ning upon him.

It shone on the students of the Academy.

Old Master Chao looked at the street filled with the corpses of the Tangs, tears streaming down his face. Then, he suddenly smiled and looked at the Abbey Dean, bellowing, “…in the face of death and trouble, do not be shaken and be unyielding.”

The wizened voice echoed through the Vermilion Bird Avenue, in the storm and snow, through the winter willows and snow lake, before the Verdant Canyon and in the Xiao Mountain. It echoed through the Eastern Border, the Northern Frontier and through every inch of land in the Tang Empire.

A gentleman could be entrusted with the destiny of either a baby or a nation; and he would guard his own awareness even when faced with great changes. That was a how a real gentleman should be like.

“The Tang Empire is filled with people like this. Because the Tang Empire is a n.o.ble kingdom.”

Old Master Chao stared into the Abbey Dean's eyes and said shrilly, “Such a beautiful kingdom is about to be destroyed by you nasty Taoists. How dare you ask if we can accept this…”

He raised his cane in preparation to throw it at the Abbey Dean.

“Screw you!”