Chapter 78 – Undying, Unwithered
Kongsang.
The pure white, flowing clouds on the Fusang Divine Tree suddenly turned dark. In the gloomy cloud layer, sparks continuously flew from the sun and moon gears. Amidst the unsettling rumble of thunder, bright purple, branch-shaped lightning bolts darted about like swimming dragons. One after another, the molten-gold heavenly ropes stretched taut. The electric fire illuminated everyone’s faces, turning them pale and purple.
“What’s going on?”
The Bei Ge Clan Head, standing beside the Taiyu Clan Head, changed his expression.
The Taiyu Clan Head’s brow twitched. He rushed forward and reached out to touch the surface of the Clear Continent’s heavenly pillar. The moment his palm touched the celestial calculation on the pillar’s surface, the pillar’s body faintly glowed with a bright orange-red light. All the chroniclers chanting the heavenly incantations simultaneously spat out a large mouthful of blood, and the ancient steps abruptly broke.
“Continue! Continue!”
The Taiyu Clan Head continuously poured his spiritual power into the pillar, turning his head to roar at the chroniclers with a ferocious expression.
“Whoever dares to stop is a traitor to Kongsang!”
A fierce wind rolled balls of lightning, like falling fruit, from the Fusang Divine Tree. Large and small balls of lightning rolled past the disciples of the Hundred Clans. The nine-level stone platform emitted an ominous rumble. Under the stern orders of their respective clan chiefs, the disciples of the Heaven-Herding Clans trembled as they maintained the formation’s operation.
The weakened chroniclers rallied and struggled to re-form their ranks.
Just as they took a step.
Crack!
A golden lock shot high into the sky.
“The heavenly rope! The heavenly rope!! The heavenly rope is broken!” a disciple of the Heaven-Herding Clans shouted. “The Heaven-Herding Rope—is broken!!!”
The Taiyu Clan Head whipped his head around. The moment he turned, the white stone pillar under his hand erupted with a dazzling light. A cracking sound, more terrifying than the snapping of the heavenly rope, came from within the pillar. The nine-level stone platform began to tremble along with it. It’s unknown who first cried out, “The pillar is going to fall!” but the disciples of the Heaven-Herding Clans fled for their lives in all directions.
Amidst the wails, one Heaven-Herding Rope after another snapped.
The earth collapsed, the mountains crumbled.
The white stone pillar that had stood for millennia collapsed with a roar, and a crimson fire shot up from its stone base.
The light illuminated thousands of kilometers.
In the Northeast Corner.
A monk and a Daoist stood quietly on the Vicious Plow Earth-Mound, gazing at the crimson light rising in the direction of Kongsang. The monk had an ordinary appearance, the Daoist a withered one. The two said nothing, only the wind, still carrying the scent of blood, billowed their sleeves. The pillar of light lasted for a full quarter of an hour before gradually dissipating.
“Amitabha,” the monk put his palms together. “Excellent, excellent.”
“Enough with the ‘excellent,’ nothing is excellent,” the old Daoist said, a horsetail whisk on his back. “The light shone in all eight directions, the Twelve Continents, the Thirty-Six Islands… they all know he’s back. Big trouble.”
The monk shook his head. “All conditioned phenomena should be viewed as such.”
“Viewed as such?” the old Daoist sneered. “The Incomplete Mountain collapsed and Kunlun sank, your Buddhist Sect ‘viewed it as such.’ The Taiyi Sword protected the coffin and fled to Fufeng, your Buddhist Sect ‘viewed it as such.’ The Thirty-Six Islands broke with the continents, your Buddhist Sect ‘viewed it as such.’ The Taiyi Sect attacked Kongsang at the Nine Marshes, your Buddhist Sect ‘viewed it as such.’ What? Are you planning to ‘view it as such’ again this time?”
The monk remained silent.
“View, view, view, all the withered wood has become coffins!” the old Daoist laughed loudly. “What is the form of the Buddha? How does he perceive all beings! Old Zen Master Wuchen, you are even worse than your disciple!”
Amidst his laughter, the old Daoist took a step, and with that step, he left the Northeast Corner. With a flick of his horsetail whisk, he parted the miasma on both sides and strode directly into the Great Wilderness.
“The Buddha has no form, but perceives all beings. All beings have no form, but their forms are myriad.”
Zen Master Wuchen lowered his head, his gaze falling on the Vicious Plow Earth-Mound.
Within the mound was a small village, and the people coming and going in the village were all members of the Scripture Woman and Moon Mother clans. Regardless of age or gender, all had pale faces and completely black eyes, all in the form of walking corpses, having been dead for millennia. Yet, the walking corpses tilled the fields, cooked meals, and the sounds of chickens and dogs could be heard, just like living people. On the side of the Vicious Plow Earth-Mound facing the sea, which was said to have been formed from the beheaded head of a primeval giant, someone had carved the mound flat into a stele, on which eight characters were incised with horizontal and vertical strokes:
What is it you seek
What is it that imprisons you
No signature, no date.
“Grievances are hard to clear, enmities hard to resolve.”
Zen Master Wuchen chanted the Buddha’s name.
He sat cross-legged and began to chant sutras and mantras, to deliver these skeletal remains that had been forcibly detained in the mortal world for millennia. A purple-gold light emanated from his body, enveloping the Vicious Plow Earth-Mound.
In the twelfth year of Guiding, on the third day of the Hai Month.
Gui Guzi entered the Great Wilderness alone, and Zen Master Wuchen single-handedly suppressed the Vicious Plow Earth-Mound.
***
Southern Borderlands, the Witch Clan.
The bonfire had been extinguished for half an hour now.
The young men and women of the Witch Clan below the altar looked at each other in dismay and unease, not knowing why the ritual had been interrupted halfway through.
Was it…
Was it a failure?
None of the ten Great Shamans of the clan came down from the altar to explain.
They all sat on the altar in a daze, their gazes fixed on a deep black, gold-lacquered mask in the center of the altar. Half an hour had passed, and no one had come back to their senses. No one could believe what they had just seen… A blurry figure had appeared in the bonfire. His fingers passed through the flames and gently touched the mask, then he looked back at them.
Then, the phantom’s palm gently pressed down.
The bonfire was extinguished, and the ritual was interrupted.
From its appearance to its disappearance, it was only a brief moment, but that moment felt like ten thousand years.
“God of the Witch Clan!”
Wuxian jumped up and, dragging his lame leg, stumbled towards the smoldering embers, towards the deep black, gold-lacquered mask. When he reached it, he fell to his knees with a thud and grabbed handful after handful of the ashes.
“Was it you? Have you returned?”
He cried and laughed at the same time, wailing like a child.
“You’ve returned!”
Wu Luo staggered over, his hands trembling as he removed the Shamanistic Nuo Mask. A clear red dot was left on the spot where the phantom had touched it. He stared at the red dot, tears streaming down his old face. He suddenly turned around, raised the mask high, held it up to the sky, and shouted to those below the altar:
“He has returned!”
“He has truly returned!”
Regardless of age or gender, everyone jumped up, all crying and laughing at the same time. Amidst the crying and laughing, someone began to sing in a hoarse voice the blessing song that had been passed down through the generations of the Witch Clan, a song that the people of the Witch Clan sang in unison around the bonfire when winter passed and spring came, when all things awakened.
“Rejoice, O my god, may your life be as long as the green pine.”
“Rejoice, O my god, may your joy be like that of a white bird.”
“Rejoice, O my god, may your peace be like that of a quiet mountain.”
“Rejoice, rejoice! May my god be well!”
The blessing songs of the Witch Clan never asked for anything from their god. The blessing songs of the Witch Clan were not songs of pleading for protection, not songs of begging for gifts, but songs of praise and blessing, songs of mortals blessing their god.
O god of the Witch Clan, may you be as happy as a white bird.
O god of the Witch Clan, may you live as long as the green pine.
O god of the Witch Clan, may you forever be free of sickness and disaster…
The god of the Witch Clan.
The soul of the Witch Clan.
***
The Golden Crow cried out.
The last Heaven-Herding Rope that bound it was severed. The one who cut the rope, holding the dripping Taiyi Sword, fell backward. Shi Wuluo opened his arms, and Chou Bodeng crashed into his embrace. They fell together. The three-thousand-meter-long wings beat, creating an updraft that supported them. The Golden Crow circled and caught them.
“Fly, go and patrol the seas.”
Chou Bodeng reached out his right hand and smoothed a few of the Golden Crow’s messy feathers, speaking softly.
He turned his head to look at Shi Wuluo beside him. Shi Wuluo met his gaze, then lowered his eyes, silently staring at his pale left hand.
The Golden Crow made a rarely heard round and gentle sound, slightly tilting its wings and drawing an arc in the sky like a hawk. It carried the sun and two people, flying steadily towards the outer sea of the Cangming Sea. Wherever it passed, the thick, viscous miasma was ignited by the sunlight, patch by patch, and a golden brilliance spread across the sea for thousands of kilometers.
The darkness that had enveloped Zhunan for a night was dispelled.
Lu Jing grabbed a rope hanging from the city wall and struggled to stand up. He swayed twice mid-way and nearly rolled off the wall. Lou Jiang reached out, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him up. Half-Diviner wiped the blood from his face and grinned foolishly. Monk Budu pulled up a nearby Mountain Sea Pavilion disciple.
They pulled each other up, supported each other.
One after another, the exhausted disciples stood on the Zhunan city wall they had guarded all night, bathed in the light of the sky, their young faces plated like bronze statues.
Jun Changwei leaned on Old Heavenly Craftsman’s shoulder and managed to stand straight.
“If I were to ask you again now, you would give me a different answer, wouldn’t you?” Jun Changwei looked at this scene and muttered to himself. “…Is your Mountain Sea Pavilion still the same Mountain Sea Pavilion as before?”
In the wind, someone seemed to answer softly:
Yes.
The Mountain Sea Pavilion is still the original Mountain Sea Pavilion.
The green mountains are undying, the vast sea is unwithered.
“What did you say?” Old Heavenly Craftsman didn’t hear clearly and complained loudly. “And stop using me as a crutch, go lie down somewhere.” As he spoke, he was about to shrug the man off, but as soon as he moved his shoulder, they both swayed and rolled off the ruins together, one hitting a remnant wall, the other a broken one.
Old Heavenly Craftsman clutched his forehead and was about to jump up and curse when his expression changed. “Hey, hey, hey! You people from the Mountain Sea Pavilion, do you also have earthquakes in Zhunan?”
The entire city of Zhunan was slowly trembling, the vibration coming from under everyone’s feet.
“It’s not an earthquake.”
A look of joy appeared on Elder Tao Rong’s face.
“It’s the Young Pavilion Master!”
“The Young Pavilion Master has succeeded!”
The nine cities of Zhunan rose nearly a hundred meters, and seawater fell from the edge of the city walls like a waterfall.
The Black Tortoise raised its head, opened its eyes, and roared angrily.
The roar spread out from the nine cities of Zhunan in ripples, an invisible force spreading across the sea. Wherever it passed, the fierce wind ceased, the waves subsided, and the Cangming Sea shone with a myriad of lights, like a mirror. The Black Tortoise’s roar shook the morning drum, and the deep, resonant sound echoed between heaven and earth.
The city boundary slowly opened, and the water surface shimmered with a cinnabar glow, like tens of thousands of acres of beautiful fields.
“The sun is out—”
“The sea gate is open!”
The fisherman Luo Xiaoqi bent down and picked up an oar. While hoarsely shouting the morning sea horn, he gave a powerful stroke of the oar. The small, tattered black-canopied boat sailed past the hideous remains of demon ghosts, past the sunken boat of the old Hu family fisherman, past the dark red, still-unfaded sea surface, and towards the shimmering golden distant sea.
A good day rises from the pole’s end.
The Golden Crow circled the Cangming Sea once, then lowered its wings and circled twice more with reluctance before flapping its wings and flying up to the ninth heaven.
Chou Bodeng and Shi Wuluo stood on the surface of the Cangming Sea, outside the city boundary.
The first boat, the second boat, the third… a thousand boats, ten thousand boats set sail at the same time. The iron bird Golden Crows on the wind-vane poles reflected the light of the sky, like thousands of suns. The whale-like fishing boats passed through the eight heaven-and-earth-supporting bronze sea pillars, transforming into a million paper lanterns carrying fire, rushing in all directions, as if to ignite the entire mortal realm.
“Zhunan has a sea, how many cups deep is the sea?”
“The sea is two cups deep, one to drink and one to fill.”
“Zhunan has a mountain, how many bells high is the mountain?”
“The mountain is two bells high, one to wake and one to sleep.”
“…”
The first net was cast high, enveloping the sunlight on the sea surface.
Bells. All beings.