Chapter 792 - Unacceptance Of The Noble Kingdom (Part 3) (1/2)
Chapter 792: Unacceptance of the n.o.ble Kingdom (Part 3)
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.