120: Chapter 120 Slaying a General and Becoming a Golden Immortal
Bone-Eroding was dead.
Those two General-level Demons were also dead.
Tens of thousands of demon soldiers had all turned into black smoke.
The ruins were covered with the traces of battle—charred earth, shattered boulders, scattered weapons, and those who would never stand up again.
Lu Mingyuan stood there, gazing at it all, motionless.
His blood was still flowing, falling drop by drop onto the ground from the deep wound on his wrist. But he could no longer feel the pain.
He just looked at those who had died.
How many had died this time?
He didn't know.
He only knew it was more than last time.
Many more.
Bai Ze walked to his side.
"You should stop the bleeding."
Lu Mingyuan didn't move.
Bai Ze looked at him.
"Did you hear me?"
Lu Mingyuan still didn't move.
Bai Ze was silent for a moment.
Then, it pressed its head against his waist and pushed him a step to the side.
"Stand back a bit. You're stepping on someone."
Lu Mingyuan looked down.
Lying at his feet was a young Loose Cultivator. The man wore tattered cloth clothes, still gripping a chipped blade in his hand. His eyes were open, gazing at the sky, but the light in those eyes was gone.
Lu Mingyuan froze.
He took a step back, looking at the man.
Looking at that young face.
Looking at that chipped blade.
He suddenly knelt down.
He knelt before the dead man.
"I'm sorry."
He said.
His voice was very light, like a fallen leaf in the wind.
"I'm sorry."
He said it again.
Bai Ze stood beside him, saying nothing.
Zhang Qingyuan held his lamp, standing in the distance, not daring to come over.
The night wind blew, and the green smoke from the lamp flickered slightly, but soon it rose straight up again.
An unknown amount of time passed.
Lu Mingyuan was still kneeling there.
Another person appeared beside him.
It was the Old Taoist who swept the floors at Longhu Mountain.
The Old Taoist also knelt down, looking at the young Loose Cultivator.
"His name was Tie Niu."
The Old Taoist said.
"He was from Hebei. His family was poor, so he set out to roam the Jianghu from a young age. He knew a few basic moves, but had no great skill. But when he heard there were demon soldiers here, he came."
He paused.
"When he arrived, he told me, 'Old Daoist, I don't know how to draw talismans or chant sutras; I just know how to use a blade. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. I'm not afraid of killing demon soldiers. If I die, consider it as earning merit for my family.'"
Lu Mingyuan listened, saying nothing.
The Old Taoist continued:
"When that wave of demon soldiers charged just now, he held back seven or eight of them alone. When his blade chipped, he used his fists. When his fists were mangled, he used his teeth."
He looked at Tie Niu's face.
"That last blow was taken for the brother beside him. That brother survived. He died."
Lu Mingyuan closed his eyes.
The Old Taoist stood up.
"Get up. Kneeling is useless."
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
"The living must continue to walk for the sake of the dead. That's what you said."
Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes.
He thought of what Li Haoran had said in Chapter 116.
"The living must do the unfinished work of the dead."
He looked at Tie Niu, and at all the people who had died.
Then, he slowly stood up.
His wound was still bleeding, but he stood very straight.
He looked at the Old Taoist.
"How many are still alive?"
The Old Taoist thought for a moment.
"Over three hundred who can still fight. Over two hundred who are too badly injured to move. As for the dead—"
He paused.
"One hundred and thirty-seven."
Lu Mingyuan's hand trembled slightly.
One hundred and thirty-seven.
Adding the forty-three from last time, that made one hundred and eighty in total.
One hundred and eighty people had died here.
He took a deep breath.
"Settle the wounded. Those who can move will take turns keeping watch tonight."
The Old Taoist nodded.
"And you?"
Lu Mingyuan looked toward The Rift.
"I'm going to take a look."
Lu Mingyuan walked toward The Rift.
Bai Ze followed beside him.
Zhang Qingyuan, carrying his lamp, also followed.
Reaching the edge of The Rift, he stopped.
The Rift had changed.
It hadn't grown; it had shrunk.
From six hundred miles, it had become five hundred miles.
The churning Devilish Qi had also faded considerably.
Bai Ze looked at The Rift.
"The core of resentment has been depleted too much."
Lu Mingyuan looked at it.
"What do you mean?"
Bai Ze thought for a moment.
"Those General-level Demons and those demon soldiers were all born from the core of resentment. Having killed so many, it will also get tired. It also needs time to recover."
It paused.
"Moreover, those last few sword strikes you used to kill Bone-Eroding carried your blood. Your blood contains Wanxiang True Qi. It has—the things you realized from Daoist Songyun."
Lu Mingyuan looked at his wrist.
The wound was still seeping blood.
"What is that?"
Bai Ze shook its head.
"I don't know. But I know it fears that."
It looked into the depths of The Rift.
"For now, it has retreated. It's nursing its wounds, waiting for the next time."
Lu Mingyuan was silent.
He looked at The Rift, at the gradually shrinking opening, and at the much-faded Devilish Qi.
Then, he suddenly felt something.
Inside his Dantian, something was moving.
That mass of Wanxiang True Qi was spinning frantically.
Faster and faster.
So fast he could almost not control it.
He closed his eyes.
His Divine Sense sank into his Dantian.
That mass of Wanxiang True Qi was no longer a 'mass'.
It was a sea.
A sea composed of countless lights.
Those lights were golden, green, white, and red—they were the things he had realized from the Daoist, Buddhist, and Confucian schools, and the path of martial arts. They were the things left to him by the dead, and the things given to him by the living.
They converged together to form this sea.
At the center of the sea was a vortex.
Deep within the vortex, something was taking shape.
It was a seed.
A golden seed.
He looked at the seed and suddenly understood something.
This was a Golden Immortal.
The seed of a Golden Immortal.
He opened his eyes.
Before him were still The Rift, those ruins, and those people.
But everything was different.
He could feel more things.
Those who had died—their resentment, their unwillingness, their regrets—he could feel them all.
Those who were living—their exhaustion, their fear, their hope—he could also feel them.
And that core of resentment deep within The Rift.
It was trembling.
It was afraid.
It was shrinking.
Looking at it, he suddenly remembered what the Queen Mother of the West had said.
"Opposition is useless; completion is the Righteous Path."
He had killed Bone-Eroding three times, slain tens of thousands of demon soldiers, and had one hundred and thirty-seven people die alongside him.
But that core of resentment was still there.
It was still waiting for the next time.
He closed his eyes.
That golden seed was sprouting.
He didn't know what this meant.
But he knew one thing—
From today on, he was different.
Bai Ze walked to his side.
"Golden Immortal?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"Golden Immortal."
Bai Ze looked at him.
"How do you feel?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
"Tired."
Bai Ze smiled.
"Nonsense. After fighting for so long, how could you not be tired?"
It paused.
"But tired or not, the things that need to be done still must be done."
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
He looked at The Rift.
"It has retreated. How long before it comes again?"
Bai Ze thought for a moment.
"I don't know. Maybe three days, maybe three months, maybe three years."
It looked at Lu Mingyuan.
"But no matter how long, it will come again."
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"I know."
He turned and walked toward the camp.
"Let's go. There's still much to do."
Back at the camp, the people were cleaning up.
The injured were carried to one side, where people were bandaging their wounds. The dead were carried to the other side, where people were tidying their remains. Those who could still move sat together in small groups, not speaking, just sitting.
Lu Mingyuan walked past them.
No one looked at him.
It wasn't a lack of respect; they were just too tired.
So tired they didn't even have the strength to lift their heads.
He walked up to Yue Wushuang.
Yue Wushuang lay on a stone slab, 'shouxin' held across his chest, his eyes closed. His face was as pale as paper, and his breathing was so faint it seemed it might stop at any moment.
Lu Mingyuan crouched down, looking at him.
"Brother Yue."
Yue Wushuang did not respond.
Lu Mingyuan reached out and checked his breath.
It was still there.
But it was very weak.
He looked at the Pavilion Keeper nearby.
The Pavilion Keeper shook his head.
"His mental energy is exhausted. He spent too much of his sword heart. To have survived at all is a stroke of great luck."
Lu Mingyuan was silent.
He stood up and walked to Jiang Yichen.
Jiang Yichen leaned against a rock, that broken sword still gripped in his hand. His eyes were half-closed, and there were still traces of blood at the corners of his mouth.
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
"Brother Jiang."
Jiang Yichen opened his eyes and looked at him.
"Hmm?"
Lu Mingyuan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing would come out.
Jiang Yichen smiled.
The smile was very weary, but there was light in his eyes.
"I won't die."
He said.
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
He walked to Zhang Lingyun.
Zhang Lingyun lay on the ground, his face deathly pale and his breathing weak. His hands were covered in blood—the result of drawing blood talismans.
Lu Mingyuan crouched down, looking at him.
"Brother Zhang."
Zhang Lingyun did not respond.
The Old Taoist nearby said:
"Mental energy exhausted. Even more severely than that fellow from Qingcheng. Those last three blood talismans he used cost him his life force."
Lu Mingyuan was silent.
He stood up and walked to Fa Ming.
Fa Ming lay among several martial monks, his body covered in strips of cloth used for bandaging wounds. His eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed, as if he were having a nightmare.
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
Jingchen walked over.
"He's fine. Just flesh wounds; he'll be okay after some rest."
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
He walked to Li Haoran.
Li Haoran was being supported by several Confucian scholars, sitting on a rock. His face was even paler than the others, as white as paper. His Noble Spirit was exhausted; he couldn't even stand up.
But when he saw Lu Mingyuan, he still managed a smile.
"Did we win?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"We won."
Li Haoran smiled.
"That's good."
He closed his eyes.
Lu Mingyuan looked at him for a long, long time.
Then, he turned and walked to Zhang Qingyuan.
Zhang Qingyuan stood to one side, holding the heart lamp. His hand was still shaking, but the lamp was very steady.
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
"Are you afraid?"
Zhang Qingyuan thought for a moment.
"I am. But afraid or not, the lamp must not go out."
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
He reached out and patted Zhang Qingyuan's head.
"Good disciple."
Zhang Qingyuan's eyes reddened.
But he didn't cry.
He just stood there, holding the lamp.
It was lit.
It remained lit.
Lu Mingyuan walked to the edge of the ruins and sat down.
Bai Ze lay down beside him.
He looked at those who had died, those who were living, and those who were cleaning up.
Then, he spoke.
"Bai Ze."
Bai Ze looked at him.
"Hmm?"
Lu Mingyuan was silent for a while.
"Tell me, is the path I'm walking right?"
Bai Ze didn't answer immediately.
It thought for a long time.
Then, it said:
"What do you think?"
Lu Mingyuan shook his head.
"I don't know."
He looked at those people.
"So many people died. One hundred and eighty. When they came, did they know they would die?"
Bai Ze looked at him.
"They knew."
Lu Mingyuan asked:
"Then why did they come?"
Bai Ze said softly:
"Because you came."
Lu Mingyuan was stunned.
Bai Ze continued:
"When you stood there, they saw it. They saw what they should do, and they saw what path they should walk."
It paused.
"They didn't come because you called them. They came because they themselves wanted to walk this path."
Lu Mingyuan was silent.
He looked at those people, and at those lights.
That light was brighter than before.
He suddenly understood something.
It wasn't about whether the path he was walking was right.
It was that the path they were walking and the path he was walking were the same one.
One path, walked by many.
As more people walk it, the path becomes wider.
As more people walk it, the path becomes longer.
He looked at the night sky.
The stars were many and bright.
Had those who died also become stars?
He didn't know.
But he knew one thing—
They didn't die in vain.
Because there were living people to continue walking for them.
By dawn, The Rift had shrunk to four hundred miles.
The Devilish Qi had faded, the black threads were gone, and those hollow eyes had closed.
The Old Taoist walked to Lu Mingyuan's side.
"Kid, it's retreated."
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"I see it."
The Old Taoist looked at him.
"You've broken through?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"Golden Immortal."
The Old Taoist smiled.
"Good kid. From Earth Immortal to Golden Immortal in less than a month."
He paused.
"What's the plan next?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
"Wait for people."
The Old Taoist asked:
"Wait for whom?"
Lu Mingyuan looked into the distance.
"Wait for those still on the road. Wait for those willing to come. Wait—"
He paused.
"Wait for it to come again."
The Old Taoist nodded.
"Then we wait."
He turned and walked toward the camp.
After a few steps, he suddenly stopped.
"Kid."
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
"Hmm?"
The Old Taoist didn't turn around.
"The path you're walking isn't wrong."
He said.
"Keep walking."
With that, he continued walking forward.
Lu Mingyuan watched his back for a long, long time.
Then, he smiled.
Zhang Qingyuan, carrying the lamp, walked to his side.
"Master, what are you smiling at?"
Lu Mingyuan shook his head.
"Nothing."
He stood up, looking at The Rift, at the living people, and at the lit lamp.
"Let's go. There's still much to do."
Zhang Qingyuan asked:
"Do what?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
"Guard. Wait for people. Find a way."
He stepped forward.
"Until the day it is mended."
Zhang Qingyuan followed behind him.
That lamp was still lit.
As long as it's lit, there is a path.
As long as it's lit, people will walk it.
As long as it's lit, one day, that Rift will be mended.