Nightfall

Chapter 114: The Horse Carriage in Crisscrossed Streets

Translator: Transn Editor: Transn

Li Qingshan indifferently asked, "How can we not be disturbed by the breath of the mortal world as long as we’re staying in this mortal world?"

Monk Huang Yang slowly looked up at him and suddenly said something irrelevant, "Since His Majesty is still in the palace, why are you here?"

"Rules are not living things, but people are. His Majesty stays in the palace most of the time, so do I have to be detained in the palace every day? You can cultivate every day hiding in Wanyan Tower, but as the lord of the South School of Haotian Taoism, I really have many things to do. Moreover, who can do harm to His Majesty in Chang’an City?"

"The South School of Haotian Taoism..." Monk Huang Yang repeated again in a slight voice, on his face appearing a hint of a confusing smile. He softly added, "The South School was abruptly separated from Haotian Taoism in our Tang Empire. I really don’t know how you can resist the fury of the Great Divine Priests’ when you return to West-Hill every year."

Li Qingshan proudly said, "I close my eyes sitting above the temple without seeing the old faces of those uncles. I pretend to be deaf standing in the peachless peach mountain without listening to the remote solemn bells.

"The South School has paid the amount of the silver taels that they ought to pay each year. What else do they want? To convict me as a betrayer and get me killed? In that case, those old priests in West-Hill have to destroy our Great Tang Empire first."

Monk Huang Yang smiled without saying anything.

The South School of Haotian Taoism was the product of the balance between the Tang Empire and West-Hill Divine Palace. It actually represented the greatest victory of the Tang Empire in the secular religious wars. One more day that it existed, one more day of embarrassment that the Taoist sublime beings in West-Hill would have. It was not suitable for him to comment too much on such things as he had been cultivating Buddhism skills.

"The Vermilion Bird awakened last night."

Li Qingshan brought the conversation back to the most previous topic, and said, looking coldly at Monk Huang Yang, "Whether willing or not, I’ve disturbed many people. As the Master of the Tang Empire, it’s impossible for me to be unable to give answers to those questions that the imperial court poses."

Monk Huang Yang stared at the Buddhist scriptures on the front table and the bright red handicrafts written in cinnabar on the paper. Then he asked after a moment of silence, "So you’re here to find the answer?"

"A famous Sword Master in Southern City was beheaded before the Vermilion Bird awakened."

In the cramped tower, Li Qingshan bypassed the wooden table and then quickly walked to the edge of the tower. He looked out through the tiny glass window and his eyesight crossed the forest and summer heat, and finally landed on the steamed Southern City.

"The dead Sword Master was once the document appraiser of the Military Ministry. Few people know that he was a disciple of West-Hill, while his Sword Formulas were from Haotian Taoism. That isn’t the crux of the problem, and I’m not here to blame the Tang Empire on behalf of the uncles in West-Hill. What I’m interested in is why the murderer didn’t bleed even though his coat was torn by the Sword Master before his death."

Monk Huang Yang seemed to be deep in thought listening to those words, then he slowly asked, "Expert at the peak state of Martial Arts?"

Li Qingshan turned around, and settled the sleeves on his back. He then said, quietly watching the monk, "There’s very little possibility that the experts of Martial Arts might get involved, since the experts of Martial Arts in South Jin Kingdom, Yan Kingdom, and other places are under the surveillance of the imperial court. Thus, I suspect that the mortifying monks of Yuelun Kingdom have sneaked in and played tricks."

"So you’re here to find the answer." The monk smiled and repeated what he said previously.

"There’s a legend in the world that you have been to the Unknown Place, and I know it isn’t just a legend, but the truth. Then I will certainly ask you things about those mortifying monks in Yuelun Kingdom."

"I’m from Pingzhou City of the Tang Empire." Monk Huang Yang became serious, and quietly continued. "I don’t believe that monks of Yuelun Kingdom would sneak into Chang’an City to kill people for no apparent reason."

"Then how do you explain the bloodless coat of the murderer?" Li Qingshan asked, gazing at his eyes.

Monk Huang Yang replied softly with gentle eyes, "The Vermilion Bird awakened because of fury. It collects the Breath of Nature as a nameless fire, which is powerful enough to incinerate all the things in the world. Let alone some thick bloodstains, but perhaps the assassin has already become ashes."

The monk, the younger brother of the emperor, was skilled in Buddhist Dharma, and could easily guess the truth of this matter, which was extraordinary as expected.

However, this could not fully explain every question.

Li Qingshan asked with furrowed eyebrows, "How many people in the world can make the Vermilion Bird awaken and flare up? Even if you and I tried our hardest, it might just lazily open its eyes to give a simple glance. If it’s one of those predecessors, why did he come to Chang’an City to be a killer? Why did he take the risk to get the Vermilion Bird angry, and why were there no omens?"

Monk Huang Yang replied with a smile, "Still, the sacred items left by previous Sages always have special meanings that lay between activity and potential. How can ordinary people like us understand? If the predecessor who may have been to Chang’an City has really detached the Knowing Destiny State, acquired the ability of Tianqi, and the concept of No Rules, then his purpose of coming to Chang’an can’t be guessed at."

Sages, sacred items, Tianqi, and No Rules—these words echoed within the narrow space at the top of Wanyan Tower. Even the Masters of the Tang Empire and the skilled Buddhas could not help falling into a long period of silence when they were confronted with these extraordinary existences.

"The 13th year of the Tianqi era... wasn’t really peaceful."

Following a gentle sigh, Li Qingshan turned around to look outside at the sky that was separated into several palm-sized parts by the glass window. He watched the floating clouds and those noisy birds, and then leisurely said, "Nothing serious, but some disturbing trifles. I’m thinking whether I should practice some divination."

"Buddhists cultivate mediation rather than life." Monk Huang Yang watched his back and calmly added, "I never believe in such things like divination. Don’t forget how great a disturbance was created after the Imperial Astronomer finished observing stars that year. It seems the review that ’Night covers the stars; the country will be in turmoil’ is really absurd today."

Li Qingshan observed the clouds and then indifferently said, "The movement of the clouds and stars seems to be random, but is actually not. In your life, sometimes you find it ridiculous to predict destiny. But as time goes by, it will eventually be found that what is ridiculous is not the prediction, but the destiny itself."

"Master, although what you said is right, please remember the comments that the divine priest from West-Hill gave you while he was imparting Taoism to you. He said that you have to sacrifice your life to obtain the ability of observing the sky. Comments on observing the stars from the Imperial Astronomer provoked innumerable disturbances at that time, and Her Majesty begged you to practice divination in order to keep herself innocent, but you refused. Do you really want to shorten your life expectancy today just because of the turmoil and premonition in your heart?"

"Nature’s mystery is unpredictable. I’d like to witness the prosperity of the Tang Empire for a few extra years, so I won’t painstakingly shorten my predestined lifespan." Li Qingshan slowly furrowed his eyebrows, and watched those lively stall keepers "yo-heave-ho" outside the temple and under the tower. He said, "Even at the cost of a serious illness, I still want to see what kind of variables have fallen on this chessboard."

Monk Huang Yang sighed in his heart, without trying to stop his fellow any longer. He moved the Buddhist scriptures, pens, and ink away in order to take out black and white chess pieces and a chessboard from the box and placed them on the writing desk.

Li Qingshan turned around to walk to the side of the desk, and just flicked his sleeves to grab two handfuls of black and white chess pieces. He threw them freely on the chessboard, rather than making complicated and enigmatic spellcasting actions.

Dozens of matte chess pieces hit and rolled on the wooden chessboard, making a crispy sound. They did not quiet down for a very long time, and in accordance with the decree of destiny, they silently fell onto their own positions without moving anymore.

Li Qingshan and Monk Huang Yang gazed simultaneously at a black chess piece on the board. This chess piece was not confined to the straight line, Tengen, and square grids and just fell askew somewhere random but strange.

The horizontal and vertical lines on the chessboard were like crisscrossed streets in the world. The chess pieces were like travelers and horse carriages, which stayed in the intersection talking and discussing together like old friends or enemies, and which would not meet each other again after drinking two cups of tea, peaceful or contentious as usual.

There was only one horse carriage lying in the middle of the broad avenue without moving forward or backward, without greeting its peers, or colliding to break through everything. It was just silently blocking.

It was this block that immediately made the crisscrossed streets a different situation—where people marching south or west could not continue their travels; where enemies who wanted to draw knives against each other could not meet in person; where lovers who were deeply attached to each other could not embrace; where friends became strangers; and where disputes became confusing.

"Are these the variations on the chessboard?"

Looking at the black chess piece and the silent horse carriage in the vertical and horizontal streets, Li Qingshan’s expression was as calm as ever. But his face quickly turned pale at a visible speed, as if he was suffering a serious illness right at that moment.

A dead silence descended on the top of Wanyan Tower, and no one knew how long it had lasted. Yet it was eventually broken by Li Junshan’s hoarse and tired voice, from which no sorrow or joy could be discerned.

"This variable... is about to die."

Upon hearing this, Monk Huang Yang was a little astonished as he watched the black chess piece slowly getting crossed with a merciful expression on his face.

Just then, Li Qingshan raised his eyebrows, and a hint of something different flashed through his eyes. "No, more variables have appeared," he added.

...

...

The darkness was approaching, the summer had not retreated, and the cicadas outside of the window were still chirping. Silence prevailed on the second floor of the old library in the Academy. The delicate and tenuous female professor by the eastern window had left, while the seriously injured and dying lad under the western window was still sitting there, leaning against the wall. He looked pale with closed eyes as if he would fall into some permanent dark and sweet dreams in the next moment.

A few spaces ahead were rows of bookshelves against the wall. The complex ornamentation at the side of the bookshelves slightly brightened, and then silently slipped away. A moment later, a fat lad wearing the summer robe of the Academy squeezed over.

When the fat lad was just about to crouch his body with difficulty to pull out Wu Shanyang’s Theory on Hoaran Sword from the bottom of the bookshelf, he suddenly furrowed his eyebrows and his white and tender complexion conveyed a trace of suspicion, and then he turned around.

Seeing the motionless lad who seemed to be asleep by the wall, he exclaimed, with furrowed eyebrows gradually stretching out and his thick lips smacking, "When has the guy who was more desperate than Ning Que come to the Academy?"

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