As he listened to the voices and felt the malice pouring off those people, Chen Cuo gradually slowed his steps.
He soon understood why.
They say I abused a princess of fallen Northern Qi? Just hearing about those deeds makes me want to beat myself up! It's absurd beyond belief! And they've got every detail nailed down—not just times and places, but witnesses and physical evidence. They've even fitted it into the timeline of Northern Qi's fall, Southern Chen's fall, and my former body's last battle. Lay it all out, and it almost adds up!
Chen Cuo looked around. Every person had a faint mist of water coiling around them. The mist boiled and linked to the River of Time, while the resentment in their hearts turned to black vapor and flowed into the river.
As the mist rose, the black vapor rose with it, merging into the river's phantom in the Firmament and rolling onward with its waters.
Nearly forty years of study have only let me make use of it. To fully absorb the river's power into myself, or immerse my thoughts in it and carve out a place of my own, remains a thousand times harder. Yet these seemingly ordinary people can shake the river and enter its waters with a few casual words. Or rather...
A realization stirred in Chen Cuo's mind.
Their words are what make up its waters!
Chen Cuo's understanding of the River of History could hardly be called deep. Less than a century had passed since he entered the Dao, and he had spent most of that time on things other than studying the river. Yet he was far from ignorant of it. Ever since he obtained the Dao Mark, his consciousness had been able to roam the river.
*The River of