106: Chapter 106 People from Yuelu
Traveling south from Shaolin Temple for three days, they entered the borders of Hunan.
Mountains gradually became more numerous, one after another like green waves. The air grew humid, and with every breath, one could feel the presence of moisture.
Zhang Qingyuan carried the heart lamp, walking until he was covered in sweat.
“Master, how much further?”
Lu Mingyuan looked ahead.
“It is close. Once we cross that mountain ahead, we will be at Yuelu Mountain.”
Zhang Qingyuan wiped his sweat and continued walking.
Bai Ze, walking at the very front, suddenly stopped.
It pricked up its ears and looked toward the distant mountain range.
“There are people.”
Lu Mingyuan walked to its side.
“What kind of people?”
Bai Ze sniffed the air.
“Scholars.”
It paused.
“Many scholars.”
Lu Mingyuan was startled.
Many scholars?
He thought of Yuelu Academy, of those Confucian scholars, and of the days five years ago when he had discussed philosophy here.
Could it be—
He stepped forward.
Crossing the mountain ridge, the view before him suddenly opened up.
Below the mountain was a wide open space where a great river meandered past. Beside the river was a mountain, and upon that mountain stood an academy.
Yuelu Academy.
It was just as it had been when he visited five years ago—red walls and black tiles, shaded by green trees, with the faint silhouettes of upturned eaves and corners visible.
But what was different was—
The open ground in front of the academy entrance was densely packed with people.
There were at least several hundred.
Those people wore scholar's robes and scholar's caps; there were old and young, men and women. They stood there, facing the same direction—the Northwest.
Looking at those people, a strange feeling suddenly surged in Lu Mingyuan's heart.
What were they waiting for?
He led the group toward the academy.
Only upon drawing closer did he realize those people were not waiting.
They were seeing someone off.
Seeing off whom?
He looked toward the academy entrance.
A person stood at the gate.
That person wore green scholar's robes and a square cap; his face was lean, and his gaze was clear. He stood on the steps, back to the academy and facing the crowd, motionless.
Lu Mingyuan recognized him.
Li Haoran.
Five years ago, he was that junior from the school of mind who had debated the case of 'the flower in the rock' with him.
At that time, he was only at the Golden Core Middle Stage, but now—
He looked closely.
Nascent Soul Middle Stage.
Five years to go from Golden Core Middle Stage to Nascent Soul Middle Stage was not fast, but not slow either. However, those eyes were much clearer and more determined than they had been five years ago.
Li Haoran also saw him.
He was startled for a moment, and then he smiled.
That smile was very faint, yet it made one feel very warm.
“You have come.”
Lu Mingyuan walked up to him.
“You knew I was coming?”
Li Haoran shook his head.
“I did not know. But I knew you would come.”
He looked at those behind Lu Mingyuan—Zhang Lingyun, Jiang Yichen, Fa Ming, Zhang Qingyuan, and Bai Ze.
“And these are?”
Lu Mingyuan introduced them one by one.
Li Haoran nodded after listening.
“Good.”
He turned and looked toward the crowd standing on the open ground.
“Everyone, the friend we have been waiting for has arrived.”
The crowd began to stir.
Those people looked at Lu Mingyuan with gazes full of curiosity, scrutiny, expectation, and even doubt.
An old scholar with white hair and beard stepped forward.
“Haoran, is this the person you spoke of?”
Li Haoran nodded.
“Yes.”
The old scholar looked at Lu Mingyuan for a long time.
Then, he asked a question.
“Are you the one who spoke of the ‘Heart as the Mysterious Pivot’?”
Lu Mingyuan's heart jolted.
How did he know?
The old scholar watched him.
“Five years ago, you came to Yuelu Academy and debated the case of ‘the flower in the rock’ with Haoran. After you left, Haoran entered secluded cultivation for three years. When he emerged, his entire person had changed.”
He paused.
“He said it was because of your words.”
Lu Mingyuan looked at Li Haoran.
Li Haoran did not speak, only nodding slightly.
The old scholar continued:
“Later, I asked him what your words were. He said—”
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“He said you once spoke a sentence—‘Nothing exists outside the mind, no mind exists outside of things; mind and matter are not two, but originally one.’”
Lu Mingyuan thought for a long time.
He remembered now.
He had debated the case of 'the flower in the rock' with Li Haoran. Li Haoran had asked him: “When you have not yet seen this flower, this flower and your mind return to silence together. When you come to see this flower, its colors at once become clear. Thus you know this flower does not exist outside your mind. Do you believe this?”
He had answered then:
“I do. And I do not.”
“I believe that when one looks at the flower, the flower is within the mind. I do not believe that when one is not looking at the flower, the flower is not there. The flower is within the mind, and also outside the mind. Nothing exists outside the mind, no mind exists outside of things. Mind and matter are not two, but originally one.”
Li Haoran had fallen silent for a long time after hearing this.
Then, he had said one thing.
“I understand.”
From that moment on, he had changed.
Lu Mingyuan looked at Li Haoran, his gaze filled with complex emotions.
He had never imagined that words he spoke unintentionally would change a person's path.
Just as Jiang Yichen had said.
Just as Zhang Lingyun had said.
Just as Fa Ming had said.
The old scholar looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“We have heard of your affairs. The Northwest Rift, the Dharma-Ending Kalpa, An.”
He paused.
“Haoran said you would come to call for him. To call him to the Northwest.”
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
“Yes.”
The old scholar watched him.
“Do you know what will happen if he goes?”
Lu Mingyuan was silent for a moment.
“I know. He might die.”
The old scholar nodded.
“Then that is right.”
He turned and looked toward the Confucian scholars.
“What about you? Do you know?”
Those Confucian scholars said in unison:
“We know!”
The old scholar asked again:
“Are you still going?”
The Confucian scholars again said in unison:
“We are!”
Lu Mingyuan was stunned.
He looked at those people, at those young and old, male and female Confucian scholars, looking at the expressions on their faces—it was not impulse, not hot-bloodedness, but calm.
A calm just like Fa Ming's.
A calm just like Li Haoran's.
The calm of those who knew exactly what they were going to do.
The old scholar looked toward Lu Mingyuan.
“These people are the students Haoran has taught at the academy over these years. Three hundred and twenty-seven in total.”
He paused.
“They are willing to go with him.”
Lu Mingyuan opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Three hundred and twenty-seven people.
Three hundred and twenty-seven people willing to go to the Northwest.
He had thought he was only coming for Li Haoran alone.
But three hundred and twenty-seven people were coming.
Li Haoran walked to his side.
“Startled?”
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
“Startled.”
Li Haoran smiled.
“I was startled too.”
He looked at those students.
“I originally intended to leave alone. But they found out and insisted on following.”
He paused.
“I said they might die. They said they knew.”
“I said they might not return. They said they knew.”
“I said they still had families, futures, and their own paths. They said—”
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“They said this is their path.”
Lu Mingyuan fell silent.
He looked at those people, at those young faces, and at the light in their eyes.
That light, he had seen it before.
He had seen it in Zhang Lingyun's eyes.
He had seen it in Jiang Yichen's eyes.
He had seen it in Fa Ming's eyes.
He had seen it in Zhang Qingyuan's eyes.
He had seen it in Bai Ze's eyes.
And now, he saw it again.
Three hundred and twenty-seven pairs of eyes, three hundred and twenty-seven beams of light.
Bai Ze walked to his side and said softly:
“Now you know what it means for ‘many people to walk together,’ don't you?”
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
“I know.”
He looked at those people, at that light.
Then, he smiled.
It was a very light, shallow smile, but there was a glimmer of tears in his eyes.
The old scholar walked over and looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“The people, you may take them. But there is one question I must ask you.”
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
“Senior, please speak.”
The old scholar was silent for a moment.
“How do you plan to guard that Rift?”
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
“I do not know.”
The old scholar frowned.
“You do not know?”
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
“I do not know. But I know one thing.”
The old scholar watched him.
“What?”
Lu Mingyuan said softly:
“Guarding The Rift is not something one person can do. Nor is it something a few people can do. It is something many people do together.”
He looked at those Confucian scholars.
“Alone, I do not know how to guard it. But with them, with Zhang Lingyun, with Jiang Yichen, with Fa Ming, with Bai Ze, and with those who will come later—perhaps we will know.”
He looked at the old scholar.
“Perhaps, when we reach that stage, we will naturally know.”
The old scholar was silent for a long time.
Then, he smiled.
“Good. A fine ‘when we reach that stage, we will naturally know.’”
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“What you said is the same as what Master Zhu once said.”
Lu Mingyuan was startled.
“Master Zhu?”
The old scholar nodded.
“Master Zhu said back then—‘Investigating things to exhaust principle is not the work of a single day. Investigate one thing today, investigate another tomorrow; when you reach that point, everything will naturally connect.’”
He paused.
“The path you walk is the same.”
Lu Mingyuan was stunned.
He remembered the time he debated ‘Investigation of Things’ with the scholars of the school of principle at Yuelu Academy.
At that time, he did not understand why a person had to ‘investigate one thing today, and another tomorrow.’
Now he understood.
Because when you reach that stage, you naturally know.
Just like walking.
After walking enough, you naturally know.
The sun slanted westward, and red clouds bloomed on the horizon.
Three hundred and twenty-seven Confucian scholars stood in neat ranks on the open ground, facing the Northwest.
Li Haoran stood at the very front, with Lu Mingyuan beside him.
The old scholar stood on the steps, watching them.
“Go,” he said.
Li Haoran bowed deeply.
The three hundred and twenty-seven Confucian scholars all bowed in unison.
Then, they turned and began walking toward the Northwest.
Lu Mingyuan walked beside Li Haoran.
Behind them were three hundred and twenty-seven people.
And behind them was Yuelu Academy, those red walls and black tiles, those upturned eaves and corners, and the sound of reading.
He suddenly remembered a phrase.
unity of knowledge and action.
To know and not act is simply not to know.
These scholars now knew.
And now, they were going to act.
Bai Ze walked beside him.
“Three hundred and twenty-seven people. Plus the previous ones, that's three hundred and thirty-one people in total.”
It paused.
“How do you plan to lead so many people?”
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
“It is not leading.”
Bai Ze looked at him.
“Not leading? Then what is it?”
Lu Mingyuan said softly:
“It is walking together.”
He looked ahead.
“Those who walk do not need someone to lead them. They only need to know where they are going and why they are walking.”
He paused.
“They know. Therefore, they will walk on their own.”
Bai Ze was silent for a while.
Then, it smiled.
“You said that well.”
Lu Mingyuan also smiled.
“Did I?”
Bai Ze nodded.
“Yes.”
It looked at those Confucian scholars, at those young faces, and at the light in their eyes.
“These people will follow you always. Not because you can lead them, but because the place you want to go is also where they want to go.”
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
“I know.”
He looked ahead.
Ahead was the Northwest.
The direction of The Rift.
The direction of the Dharma-Ending Kalpa.
And the direction in which they were all walking together.
They walked for a long time until the sky turned completely dark.
They stopped to rest by a small river.
Over three hundred people spread out along the riverbank, lighting campfires and taking out dry rations. The points of firelight were like stars scattered along the riverbank.
Zhang Qingyuan carried the heart lamp, running here and there, helping this one with water and that one with a fire, busy and happy.
Zhang Lingyun and Jiang Yichen still did not speak, each finding a corner to sit in meditation.
Fa Ming sat cross-legged, facing the direction of Shaolin Temple, chanting under his breath.
Li Haoran sat beside Lu Mingyuan, watching those students.
“I used to read alone. Later I took in students and taught them to read. Now, they are going to walk with me.”
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“Tell me, is this not the unity of knowledge and action?”
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
“It is.”
Li Haoran smiled.
“Then that is good.”
He looked at those students.
“I have always been afraid that teaching them to read was only knowledge without action. Now we are acting; though the path we act upon is a different one, at least we are acting.”
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
“Do you regret it?”
Li Haoran shook his head.
“I do not.”
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“And you? Do you regret it?”
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
“I do not.”
He gazed at the night sky.
“Having reached this stage, one cannot regret. One can only continue walking.”
Li Haoran nodded.
“Yes. One can only continue walking.”
The two sat side by side, watching the firelight, the students, and the river flowing into the distance.
Bai Ze lay not far away with its eyes closed, appearing to be asleep.
But it was not asleep.
It was listening.
Listening to those people's breathing, listening to their heartbeats, and listening to their sleep-talk.
It had lived for so long, seen countless people, and walked countless paths.
But this was the first time it had seen such a scene.
Over three hundred people, walking together toward the same destination.
Not because of an order, not because of any benefit, but because they themselves wanted to walk.
It opened its eyes and looked at Lu Mingyuan.
What kind of magic does this person actually possess?
To be able to make so many people follow him so willingly?
It did not know.
But it knew one thing—
Following him was the right choice.
It closed its eyes again.
This time, it truly fell asleep.
After dawn, they continued their journey.
The three hundred-plus people moved in a grand procession toward the Northwest.
People they met along the way all stopped to watch.
Some were curious, some were surprised, and some were puzzled.
But no one stopped them.
Because they knew the place these people were going was The Rift.
The place that everyone else was avoiding.
The place where they might die.
Yet they still went.
Lu Mingyuan walked at the very front, with Li Haoran, Fa Ming, Zhang Lingyun, Jiang Yichen, Zhang Qingyuan, and Bai Ze by his side.
Behind them were over three hundred people.
He suddenly remembered Xuanweizi's words.
“Cultivation is walking. Walk the path beneath your feet well, and you will naturally know how to walk thereafter.”
He had walked for five years, going from walking alone to walking with a crowd.
He did not know how much longer he would walk, how much further he would go, or what it would become.
But he knew one thing—
As long as he kept walking, he would keep meeting.
Meeting people willing to walk together.
Meeting the path that ought to be walked.
Encountering the answers that are naturally revealed upon reaching that stage.
He looked ahead.
Ahead was the Northwest.
The direction of The Rift.
The direction of the Dharma-Ending Kalpa.
The direction in which over three hundred people were walking together.
He stepped forward.
He walked quickly and steadily, without looking back.
Because there was no need to look back.
What is meant to come lies ahead.
The path meant to be walked lies beneath my feet.