116: Chapter 116 Confucianism and Taoism for Calming the Mind
The first day after the battle, everyone was very quiet.
It wasn't that they didn't want to speak; they simply couldn't.
Over forty people had died. Forty-plus living, breathing people who just yesterday were talking, forming arrays, and killing enemies together were now gone.
Their bodies were laid out on a flat patch of ground on the east side of the ruins, arranged neatly in four rows. The Taoists of Longhu Mountain covered them with yellow cloths, the Shaolin warrior monks chanted sutras for their transcendence, the Yuelu Confucian scholars tidied their appearances, and the Qingcheng swordsmen drove their swords into the ground before their heads.
No one cried.
But that silence was more painful than weeping.
Lu Mingyuan stood before those bodies for a very, very long time.
He thought of Goudan, he thought of those four Golden Core Cultivators, and he thought of those who had died at the hands of the demon soldiers.
Now, there were over forty more.
He closed his eyes.
Bai Ze walked over to his side.
"This is not your fault."
Lu Mingyuan did not answer.
Bai Ze continued,
"When they came, they knew they might die."
Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes.
"Knowing you might die and actually being dead are two different things."
He looked at the bodies.
"They knew, and I knew. But what use is knowing? They are still dead."
Bai Ze fell silent.
Lu Mingyuan said softly,
"The Queen Mother of the West said to remember those who died and the things that weren't attained. I have remembered. But what comes after remembering?"
He looked at Bai Ze.
"They are dead, and I am alive. What am I living for?"
Bai Ze looked at him for a very long time.
Then, it said one thing.
"You live to continue the journey in their stead."
Li Haoran sat on a rock, gazing at the bodies.
His face was still very pale; the depletion of his Noble Spirit was too great, and he wouldn't recover for three to five days. Yet he sat very straight, like a pine tree.
Several young Confucian scholars surrounded him, looking at the bodies with red-rimmed eyes.
Among them was his favorite student, named Lin Yuan.
Lin Yuan looked at him.
"Teacher, did they... die for nothing?"
Li Haoran did not answer immediately.
He looked at the bodies, the swords driven before their heads, and the yellow cloths covering them.
Then, he said softly,
"What do you think?"
Lin Yuan thought for a moment.
"I don't know. When they came, they said they wanted to guard The Rift, suppress the aberrant demons, and protect all living beings. But they are dead, and The Rift is still there, the aberrant demons are still there, and the people—the people don't even know they died."
He paused.
"Then why did they come?"
Li Haoran looked at him.
"Have you asked yourself?"
Lin Yuan was startled.
"What?"
Li Haoran asked,
"Why did you come?"
Lin Yuan thought for a long time.
Then, he said slowly,
"Because Teacher came."
Li Haoran nodded.
"Right. Because I came."
He looked at the bodies.
"And them? Why did they come?"
Lin Yuan looked at the bodies, at the people he knew and those he didn't.
"They... also came because someone else came?"
Li Haoran nodded.
"Yes. Because they saw that someone had come, someone was guarding, and someone had died. Then they thought, I should come too. I should guard too. I should—die here, if it is my turn."
He looked at Lin Yuan.
"This is called—Character."
Lin Yuan was stunned.
"Character?"
Li Haoran nodded.
"We scholars value Character. What is Character? It's not about being able to write essays or recite classics; it's about standing forth when one ought to stand forth. It's about dying when it is time to die."
He pointed at the bodies.
"When they stood forth, they knew they might die. But they stood forth anyway. That is Character."
Lin Yuan was silent.
He looked at the bodies, at the young and old faces, and at the swords driven into the ground.
Then, he asked a question.
"Teacher, then what about us? What about those of us who are still alive?"
Li Haoran looked at him.
"What do you think?"
Lin Yuan thought for a long time.
Then, he said,
"Continue the journey?"
Li Haoran smiled.
The smile was faint, but there was light in his eyes.
"Yes. Continue the journey."
He stood up and walked to the front of the bodies.
"They are dead, but the path is not broken. Since we are alive, we must continue. Walk until the day we can walk no more. Walk until the day we die. Walk until—the day someone else continues the journey for us."
He looked at the bodies.
"Only this is being worthy of them."
Li Haoran turned around and looked at those who were still alive.
The Taoists of Longhu Mountain, the Shaolin warrior monks, the Qingcheng swordsmen, the Loose Cultivators—they all looked at him.
He took a deep breath.
Noble Spirit surged from within his body; though it was weak, it was indeed Noble Spirit.
He looked at the people and spoke.
His voice wasn't loud, but everyone heard him clearly.
"Everyone."
He said.
"Yesterday, forty-three of our brothers died."
The people looked at him; no one spoke.
Li Haoran continued,
"They are dead. We are alive."
He paused.
"What must those who are alive do?"
No one answered.
Li Haoran answered himself.
"Those who are alive must continue the journey. Continue to guard. Continue to kill those demon soldiers. Continue to guard this Rift. Continue—to live for them."
He looked at the people.
"Are you afraid?"
Some nodded.
Some remained silent.
Some looked at their hands, which were still shaking.
Li Haoran also looked at his own hands.
Those hands were also shaking.
He smiled.
"I am afraid too."
He said.
"Scared to death."
He looked at the people.
"But despite being afraid, what needs to be done must still be done."
He pointed at the bodies.
"They died precisely because they understood this principle. They knew that despite being afraid, what needs to be done must still be done."
He paused.
"So, they are dead. We are alive."
"We are alive not because we are stronger than them. It is because—it is our turn to be alive."
"Those who are alive must do for the dead the things they did not finish."
Silence.
The wind blew, and the yellow cloths fluttered gently.
Someone began to weep.
It wasn't a loud wailing, but a quiet weeping. Tears fell, dripping onto the ground and drying quickly.
Li Haoran looked at those people, at those tears.
He did not speak.
He simply stood there, letting the Noble Spirit surge from his body.
That spirit was very weak, so weak it was almost invisible.
But it was there.
Like a lamp.
Those people looked at that lamp, at that faint light.
Then, someone stood up.
It was a Taoist from Longhu Mountain, young, with tear stains still on his face.
He walked to Li Haoran's side and stood straight.
Then a second, a third, a fourth—
One by one, those who were alive stood up, walked to Li Haoran's side, and stood in a line.
Over forty people had died, but over four hundred were still alive.
Over four hundred people stood together, facing those bodies.
No one spoke.
But that silence was no longer an oppressive silence.
It was—a silence of resolve.
It was—a silence of continuing the journey.
Lu Mingyuan stood in the distance, watching it all.
Bai Ze was at his side.
"That scholar is quite interesting."
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"Yes."
Bai Ze looked at him.
"You're not going to say a few words?"
Lu Mingyuan shook his head.
"No need. He said it well enough."
He looked at Li Haoran and at the people standing by his side.
"Besides, this is his task."
Bai Ze asked,
"What task?"
Lu Mingyuan said softly,
"Confucianism settling the heart."
He looked at the people.
"They came to guard The Rift. But before guarding The Rift, they must first guard their own hearts. If the heart is in chaos, guarding anything is empty."
He paused.
"Haoran has helped them settle their hearts."
Bai Ze fell silent.
Then, it said,
"This Zhenyi Alliance of yours has recruited some decent people."
Lu Mingyuan smiled.
"I didn't recruit them. They came on their own."
He looked at the people.
"They came on their own, they guard on their own, and they settle their hearts on their own. I did nothing."
Bai Ze looked at him.
"You did."
Lu Mingyuan was startled.
"What?"
Bai Ze said softly,
"You allowed them to see."
Lu Mingyuan fell silent.
He looked at the people, at that light.
That light was brighter than yesterday.
The sun set.
The bodies gradually blurred in the twilight.
Those who were alive began preparing for the night watch.
Li Haoran still stood there, gazing at the bodies.
Lin Yuan walked to his side.
"Teacher, you should rest. Your Noble Spirit hasn't recovered yet."
Li Haoran shook his head.
"I'll stand a while longer."
He looked at the bodies.
"This is their last night lying here. I'll keep them company."
Lin Yuan was silent.
Then, he also stood still beside Li Haoran.
"Then I will accompany you."
Li Haoran glanced at him.
"Are you not afraid?"
Lin Yuan thought for a moment.
"I am. But despite being afraid, what needs to be accompanied must still be accompanied."
Li Haoran smiled.
"Good. Then we shall accompany them together."
The teacher and student stood side by side before the bodies.
The twilight deepened, and night fell.
Zhang Qingyuan approached carrying a heart lamp and placed it at their feet.
"Mr. Li, I'll leave the lamp here. To provide a bit of light."
Li Haoran looked at him.
"Thank you."
Zhang Qingyuan shook his head and turned to leave.
Li Haoran looked down at the lamp.
The incense in the lamp burned slowly, the blue smoke rising straight up, drawing a thin line in the night sky.
He thought of a saying.
Chapter 54: The unity of knowledge and action.
If you know, you must act. If you act, you must see it through to the end.
He looked at the bodies.
They knew. They also acted. They just didn't make it to the end.
But not making it to the end didn't matter.
Because they had walked the path.
Walking it was better than not walking it at all.
He looked at the lamp, at the bodies, and at the living.
Then, he said softly,
"Everyone, have a safe journey."
The night wind blew, and the yellow cloths fluttered gently.
It was as if they were responding.
The night grew deep.
Li Haoran finally sat down.
He sat on that rock, gazing at the starry sky.
Lin Yuan sat beside him.
"Teacher, what are you thinking about?"
Li Haoran was silent for a while.
"I'm thinking of a saying by Master Zhu."
Lin Yuan asked,
"Which one?"
Li Haoran said softly,
"'To establish a heart for Heaven and Earth, to establish a destiny for the people, to continue the lost teachings for past sages, and to open a path of peace for ten thousand generations.'"
He looked at the bodies.
I used to just read this sentence. Today, I seem to understand it."
Lin Yuan looked at him.
"What do you understand?"
Li Haoran thought for a moment.
"I understand one thing—to establish a heart for Heaven and Earth is not about writing essays. It is about establishing a heart for those who have died, letting them know they did not die in vain."
He paused.
"To establish a destiny for the people is not about shouting slogans. It is about stabilizing the lives of those who are still living, letting them know where they should go."
He looked at Lin Yuan.
"Do you understand?"
Lin Yuan thought for a long time.
Then, he nodded slowly.
"I seem to... understand a little bit."
Li Haoran smiled.
"A little bit is enough. The rest, you will understand slowly as you walk the path."
He closed his eyes.
Lin Yuan looked at his profile, seeing the starlight fall upon him.
Then, he also closed his eyes.
The teacher and student sat in the night, guarding the bodies, the lamp, and this ruin that had just been stained with blood.
The night wind blew, very cold.
But in their hearts, there was a fire.
That fire had been lit by those who had died.
That fire would keep burning.
Burning until dawn, burning until tomorrow, burning until the day it was meant to burn.