Chapter 1115 – Who Has Won? (2/2)
Against his original intentions, he began to learn Dragon language.
This was not a smooth process, and compared to buying various gourmet foods from the streets of the capital, it could even be called a challenge.
But as time passed, he would occasionally think back to that scripture he had memorized in Xining Village's old temple. Suddenly, he realized that he had begun to vaguely understand it.
In his three years in the snowy mountains, he would spend every night continuing his lessons in Dragon language with the little Black Dragon, and then he would think back to that scripture.
It was truly very difficult, both Dragon language and that scripture.
In the end, he still didn't learn very much, in both Dragon language and that scripture.
But it was already enough for him to receive that Daoist technique under the prerequisite of Shang Xingzhou being completely unprepared.
And it was also just a moment ago when he had said that word that Chen Changsheng finally understood why the Pope had made this arrangement.
The Pope wanted him to receive the help of the little Black Dragon, and he had also wanted him to learn Dragon language.
The Pope hoped that he could comprehend the final book of the three thousand scriptures, and wanted to remind him that Shang Xingzhou had probably comprehended some ancient Daos from this final book.
Why was a reminder necessary? This was also a sort of reminder.
It was clear that the Pope had expected long ago that this master and disciple would end up falling out due to a difference in ideals.
Upon understanding all this, Chen Changsheng said this to Shang Xingzhou:
”Master is not wrong. I truly was raised by Master, but Master, you did not bring me up, because you've never brought me up, never cared about me, never taught me anything. I was brought up by Senior Brother. He taught me many things. Senior Su Li also taught me many things, and there's also Martial Uncle. What they taught me far exceeded what you taught me.”
Shang Xingzhou said nothing, only stared at Chen Changsheng.
He had lost.
He had lost to that disciple in front of him who he hated the most, and he had also lost to that disciple on the other side of the wall who he loved the most.
He had lost to that junior brother who he had always looked down on.
What should he do now?
Let go and leave like some stray old dog, or…
Shang Xingzhou closed his eyes.
It was very abrupt.
Wang Zhice, Tang Thirty-Six, and Xu Yourong were all surprised.
Only Chen Changsheng remained calm, apparently having long expected this sight.
Shang Xingzhou closed his eyes, but he did not loosen his grip.
His hand was very firmly wrapped around Chen Changsheng's throat.
Like a resilient pine tree, or a tough iron shackle.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Blood seemed to be spreading out from the depths of his eyes, meeting his black pupils and turning brown.
It was oil seeping out from a crack in the old pine.
Rust on the surface of the iron shackle.
He looked at Chen Changsheng, his eyes serene and determined.
There was no attempt to conceal his killing intent.
……
……
”Since you were willing to bet, admit your defeat.”
Wang Zhice shouted.
……
……
A walking stick lay on the stone table.
Yuren was no longer there.
……
……
Wings of white left two trails of fire in the air.
Xu Yourong vanished.
……
……
The wind rose and clouds surged.
The mountainous body of the Black Frost Dragon crushed down onto the Orthodox Academy.
……
……
Tang Thirty-Six clasped his hands to Shang Xingzhou and earnestly said, ”There's no need for this.”
……
……
Chen Changsheng said nothing.
He looked at Shang Xingzhou, his eyes similarly calm but even more determined.