85: Man's Self-Savior

The buzzing sound was initially as faint as a mosquito's hum, yet it carried an indisputable piercing quality, as if it were resonating directly from the depths of one's bone marrow.

Immediately after, the entire land began to tremble and writhe to a visible degree, like a slumbering behemoth stretching its limbs.

Soil and gravel separated and reorganized of their own accord; there was no earth-shattering roar, only an ancient and solemn muffled sound, like the turning of a massive millstone.

For seven days and seven nights, neither wind nor rain could intrude.

Su Qingzhu stayed on guard there, watching this once-mundane land perform a miracle.

At dawn on the seventh day, as the first ray of morning light pierced through the clouds, the strange movement of the land finally ceased.

At the original site of Zhang Xuanyi's main stall, a low stone ring had quietly risen. The stone was warm and smooth, its lines flowing and natural, without a single trace of a chisel, shaped exactly like a giant, primitive hearth.

The center of the stone ring was naturally concave, and the autumn rain from the previous night had gathered into a pool of shallow water within it.

The water's surface was as clear as a mirror, reflecting the vast sky and the shifting stars.

Su Qingzhu leaned over to look, and her heart suddenly trembled!

The layout of the starry sky reflected in the water was exactly the same as the map of the thirty-seven Stall Shadow Markets across the country that she had been studying day and night!

From then on, she came to this place every day, regardless of the weather.

She discovered that every night at the Hour of the Rat, the water's surface would emit a faint green glow. Within that light, countless minute runes flowed, appearing and disappearing like swimming fish.

Simply gazing at these runes brought an unprecedented peace to one's mind; all worldly troubles and distracting thoughts dissolved like ice and snow.

She gave this wondrous sight a name—the "stall without cloth."

She wrote down her observations and insights into an article, which once again spread throughout the world.

As soon as the article was published, the world was shaken.

Stall owners everywhere felt as if they had been enlightened. They followed suit, building similar "Still Water Altars" in the centers of their respective markets.

No goods were displayed, and no business was discussed. It was only for passersby to sit quietly for a moment, observe the stars in the water, and comprehend the great Dao in their hearts.

For a time, the markets were no longer just places for trade; they became harbors for the souls of countless people.

Just as the "stall without cloth" was becoming popular across the world, Zhang Xuanyi packed up the last of his belongings from his simple little hut—a broken bowl and two bamboo chopsticks—and threw them all into a cloth bag.

The small hut was completely empty.

When Su Qingzhu found him, he was preparing to leave. "Where are you going?" she asked.

Zhang Xuanyi, with a blade of grass in his mouth, replied casually, "Just looking for a new stall location."

Su Qingzhu was amused by him. "You're still going to set up a stall?"

He shook his head, a trace of unprecedented depth in his eyes as he pointed to his heart. "No more setting up. I, myself, am the stall."

That night, the moonlight was as cool as water.

Zhang Xuanyi did not enter the city, nor did he travel far. He simply sat alone by the stream at the foot of the mountain.

He pulled the last half-bag of heavenly eye mung beans from his robe and, without the slightest hesitation, scattered them all into the clear stream water.

The moment the mung beans sank to the bottom, a sudden transformation occurred!

The entire stream, from upstream to downstream, suddenly erupted with a brilliant light, as bright as day!

In the originally clear water, billions of extremely minute cloth patterns appeared out of thin air. Those patterns seemed to possess life, flowing slowly with the ripples and weaving into a winding, radiant river of stars.

"Go," he said softly to the stream full of brilliance, as if saying goodbye to an old friend. "Go find those who want to set up a stall."

As soon as he spoke, a long, distant sigh came from deep within the earth.

That slumbering Old Earth Vein Turtle actually surfaced from the earth vein one last time.

Its massive body did not disturb anyone; it simply crouched silently atop the stone ring of the "stall without cloth."

It slowly took a breath, and then slowly exhaled.

This exhale was like a gust of wind.

The gale swept across the stream at the foot of the mountain, blowing up all the billions of radiant cloth patterns, turning them into a sky full of light specks that drifted in all directions.

As the light specks rose, they actually triggered all thirty-seven Stall Shadow Markets across the country. At the same moment, without any warning, a thick white mist rose.

Within the mist, a blurry silhouette of a back gradually appeared.

That back belonged to Zhang Xuanyi—in some places, he was squatting on the ground as if teasing an invisible dog; in others, he was leaning against a wall, munching on a grilled skewer; in still others, he stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at the sky... His forms were varied, but without exception, they were all views from behind, and no one could glimpse his true face.

Seeing this, the stall owners in the markets showed no sign of panic; instead, they wore knowing smiles.

They simply placed an extra small stove by their stalls and lit a handful of warm charcoal fire, as if that man had never left, but had only changed his way of continuing to watch over this world of mortal life.

In the night market of Chang'an City, Cui Wujiu stood atop a tall building and witnessed this miracle with his own eyes.

He looked at the familiar back in the mist and the dots of stove fire rising in the market below. After a long time, he returned to his study and, page by page, personally tore the painstakingly written draft of the "Stall Shadow Market Management Measures" to shreds.

He spread out a new sheet of white paper and wrote a completely different line: "Yuanli Market shall rise and fall on its own; the officials shall not record it, and the law shall not bind it."

A few days later, the final chapter of Su Qingzhu's "self-salvation" was published.

On the book's title page, there were no long-winded sentiments, only a short sentence: "He didn't teach anything; he just let the Dao return to where it belongs."

On the day of the new book's release, all the Stall Shadow Markets across the country spontaneously held a grand yet silent "Silent Burning Ceremony."

At dusk, all the stall owners simultaneously lit the extra stove beside them, and a cyan flame ignited within.

The people remained silent, simply watching quietly.

Amidst the flickering flames, a large character for "Xiao" slowly emerged in the firelight, then quietly dissipated into nothingness.

There were meddling cultivators who wanted to use this majestic cyan fire of Power Of Will to Cultivate secret techniques, but no matter how they cast their spells, the firelight avoided them as if it were sentient, not allowing them to touch even a fraction of it.

There were ignorant children who laughingly lunged toward the flames, but the fire became incredibly gentle, bypassing their bodies like silk and leaving only a faint warmth upon them.

Several more months passed, and autumn turned to winter.

Su Qingzhu returned to Zhang Xuanyi's old site.

The stone ring was now covered in thick moss, the central puddle had long since dried up, and the stream had stopped flowing. All the previous supernatural wonders seemed to have returned to silence.

She felt a sense of loss in her heart and was about to turn and leave when she suddenly heard the lowing of a cow behind her.

She looked back to see a dark-skinned old farmer slowly walking along the field path, leading an old yellow ox.

A strange, toasted aroma wafted into her nose. She looked closely and saw that hanging from the old yellow ox's horn was a string of golden-brown, crispy Chive Boxes tied with straw rope.

As if possessed, she spoke up and asked, "Elder... where did you buy those?"

The old farmer grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, his smile simple and honest. "My wife toasted them; they're not for sale. If you like them, miss, just take one and have a taste."

She thanked him and took a Chive Box that still had some warmth.

Taking a light bite, she found the crust crispy and the filling savory. A warm current instantly surged through her entire body. It was an indescribable feeling of comfort, as if a very faint but incredibly pure Power Of Will was nourishing her mind and body.

This Power Of Will was completely different from the grand, fate-altering Power Of Will found at Zhang Xuanyi's stall.

She suddenly looked up, wanting to ask more, only to find that the old farmer had already led the ox far away.

The ox's tail swished leisurely behind it, kicking up a few flying bits of grass.

In the afterglow of the setting sun, she seemed to see a corner of a worn, faded white tablecloth flash and vanish where the ox's tail had swept.

Su Qingzhu stood there, stunned for a long time. Then, she looked down at the Chive Box in her hand and laughed softly.

"So... the stall didn't leave; it just turned into the air."

The camera zoomed out infinitely, piercing through the layers of the earth.

In the deepest part of the earth, the Old Earth Vein Turtle had long since closed its eyes in peaceful sleep, its long breaths like an eternal ballad.

In its deep dream, the shadow of the old dog that had always guarded the stall seemed to nod its head slightly in satisfaction, then transformed into the final ethereal character: Xiao.

Su Qingzhu finished the entire Chive Box, and that warm Power Of Will completely merged into her body.

She savored it carefully; in that Power Of Will, there were no earth-shattering prayers or obsessions with changing fate, only the aroma of grain dried by the sun and the old farmer's sweat-streaked, honest smile.

This was a kind of power she had never recorded and never understood.

She suddenly realized that the end of one story might simply be the beginning of another, even grander one.

Her gaze once again turned toward those thirty-seven brightly lit mortal markets in the distance.