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Edited by: Michyrr

The news that Wang Po might be coming to the capital spread very quickly and caused much consternation.

After Su Li’s departure, Wang Po had become the greatest idol in the minds of the young cultivators of the continent.

He was not as confident and easygoing as Su Li, nor did he have a particular bearing like Su Li, yet his aloof and emotionless self had attracted the reverence of others. He was similar to Su Li, however, in that he was a cultivating genius rarely seen in a hundred years. He had once compelled Snow-Treading Xun Mei to shut himself up in the Mausoleum of Books and he had never given Painted Armor Xiao Zhang or Liang Wangsun a chance to surpass him. There were many experts below the Divine Domain, such as Xue Xingchuan, yet it was him, ranked first on the Proclamation of Liberation, that was publicly acknowledged as the strongest of the lot.

Moreover, compared to Su Li, he was more in accordance with the commonly accepted definition of a hero, an example of this being his actions in that dark rain within Xunyang City.

Most importantly, the aura of a legend was too thick about him. As the sole descendant of a fallen clan, he had grown up in the vilest of conditions, far more arduous than any other cultivating genius. In the Wenshui Tang clan, he had played the part of an accountant for several years, and then he began to travel the world. In the space of ten-some years, he had set up Scholartree Manor in the south and become a wealthy power.

Just like Su Moyu, the greatest question people had after learning this news was this: Why was he coming to the capital, and what was he prepared to do?

The story of Wang Po of Tianliang was a story known by the entire continent. As the last descendant of the Wang clan, he had chosen Wang Po to be his name. The meaning of this name was known without needing to ask, and perhaps it was for this reason that the Imperial Court had always been wary of him and had attempted to suppress him countless times before. He was also aware of this, so he very rarely appeared in the capital.

Wang Po’s coming to the capital was naturally a major event.

In the past, even if he did come to the capital, he would come without a sound and in a very low-key fashion, such as the night of Xun Mei’s death.

Now, the situation and time were both completely different. He wanted to enter the capital in a low-key fashion, but it was impossible for him to do so.

That night on the Mausoleum of Books, Zhu Luo had pushed himself to attack while heavily injured, opening this majestic campaign of the entire world against Tianhai, paying with the death of his body and the vanishing of his soul. He had done this all to extract a promise from Shang Xingzhou, who represented the new government: Let the Wang clan never rise again.

The Wang clan was precisely Wang Po.

If Wang Po remained in the south and quietly stood guard over Scholartree Manor, then with the mutual protection of the Mount Li Sword Sect and the collective voice of the other powers of the south, the Imperial Court would not have been able to touch him. After all, with the confluence of the north and south in the background, some harmony had to be maintained on the surface. However, if he were to leave Scholartree Manor and enter the capital alone, the Imperial Court would not let this chance slip by.

No matter how strong he was, he was no match for the Great Zhou Imperial Court.

If he appeared in the capital, the Imperial Court had numerous methods to kill him.

No one understood why he wanted to come.

Chen Changsheng understood, because he had once endured a storm together with Wang Po in Xunyang City.

He deeply admired this expert. In the past two years, he had applied some of what he had learned from Wang Po to his own behavior, a matter which had once deeply concerned Tang Thirty-Six.

Besides Chen Changsheng, there was one other person that clearly understood why Wang Po had come.

It was Zhou Tong himself.

Consequently, once he learned of this news, the first thing he did was enter the palace and request a meeting with Shang Xingzhou.

Not long after he entered the palace, the capital once more became tense. From the military to the Ministry of Justice, from the Department for Purging Officials to the City Gate Department, countless experts and assassins began to sweep through the streets of the capital.

Chen Changsheng was somewhat concerned. After a night of contemplation, he took a chance and had the people of the Orthodoxy assist with the search, but they turned up nothing.

The Imperial Court’s search was also fruitless.

No one had been able to find Wang Po.

He had just vanished.

......

......

As time slowly passed, the autumn began to settle in.

The celebration of the confluence of north and south was about to take place. The Great Zhou Imperial Court had made many preparations. The famous buildings of the capital were all repaired to be like new, and even the Mausoleum of Books was cleaned up.

The mood in the capital was still not completely cheerful and relaxed. The ripples from the coup of the Mausoleum of Books had yet to fade, the Orthodox Academy still refused to bring out the Divine Empress’s body, and Wang Po had still not been found.

At this time, the Orthodox Academy received two letters. One letter was from Holy Maiden Peak, written personally by Xu Yourong.

She had returned to South Stream Temple. Logically speaking, she should be summoning back the disciples of South Stream Temple, and she did mention this in the letter, but she still left eighteen disciples for Chen Changsheng.

Chen Changsheng was well aware that these female disciples had a grasp over the soul of the South Stream Temple sword array. If they displayed their full strength, Chen Changsheng was safe as long as it was not an expert of the Divine Domain or a grand army attacking.

The other letter was from Wenshui and was 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 became very depressed and fell into a long period of silence.

Golden ginkgo leaves covered the ground of New North Bridge.

Nearby was the Imperial Palace. Lantern lights shone from this place, and as they shone onto the ground, it was like the setting sun had returned.

Standing under the tree and seeing this sight, Chen Changsheng silently thought, the setting sun can’t come back once it sets under the mountains, and it seems that departed friends also won’t get a chance to come back.

The entire world seemed to be painted gold, making the color of the well seem even more serene and deep.

When the lights from the Imperial Palace momentarily dimmed, Chen Changsheng’s figure vanished from the tree. A breeze stirred around the edge of the well. As the golden leaves were curled up by this wind, they presented a beautiful sight.

The ginkgo leaves outside the Imperial City were a famous sight of the capital.

Very few people knew that outside the capital was a Daoist temple called Tanzhe. There was a similar sight there that was perhaps even more beautiful. (TN: Tanzhe Temple is an actual Buddhist temple located on the outskirts of Beijing. The name literally translates to ’Pool and Mulberry Temple’, referencing the pool within the temple and the mulberry trees growing in its environs. It is home to two particularly old ginkgo trees, around 1000 years old.)

In the center of the courtyard at the back of this temple grew an extremely old ginkgo tree, said to have been planted by Emperor Taizong himself. In the autumn, this ancient tree was covered in golden leaves, like a golden cloud or a firework. Beneath the tree were thick piles of leaves, a golden cloud descended to earth. If viewed from a distance, it looked like a golden waterfall.

In the depths of the golden ginkgo leaves was a stone table. By the table was a stone stool, and a person was sitting on this stool. He was not drinking tea, but comprehending the blade.

The entire continent knew that he had come to the capital and countless people were seeking him out within it, but they had failed. This was because although he had come to the capital, he had not entered the city.

If people were to know of this, they would assuredly be astounded, as this was completely different from his past behavior and conduct.

Everyone believed that since he had come to the capital, he would certainly enter, as this was very much like his path of the blade, straight and true.

Zhou Tong had also thought this way, but turned out to be wrong.

Wang Po had already stayed in Tanzhe Temple for eleven days.

He would spend each day quietly seated under the ginkgo tree.

He was comprehending the blade, not practicing the blade. The metal blade remained in its sheath, and the sheath sat on his knees.

The ancient tree continued to shed leaves, covering the earth. It seemed particularly pure and exuded a dazzling beauty, so much so that it was difficult to imagine what it looked like beneath the leaves.

Those golden leaves also naturally fell on his body, accumulating on his clothes and gradually covering his sheath, so much so that it was difficult to imagine the edge of the blade within the sheath.

The Dao of Wang Po’s blade, in this world of yellow leaves, faintly began to transform.