122: Chapter 122 Void Walk
The door closed behind him.
Lu Mingyuan stood within Chaos.
Something was wrong.
He looked back.
The door was gone.
Zixiao Palace was also gone.
There was only gray.
An endless, boundless gray.
He had clearly just stepped through that door, seen endless light, and seen countless people. But at this moment, that light and those people had all vanished.
There was only him.
Standing in Chaos.
Where was Bai Ze?
He searched all around.
Nothing.
Where was that old man?
Nothing there either.
Only him.
Alone.
Lu Mingyuan stood there, unmoving.
It wasn't that he didn't want to move, but that he didn't know where to move.
In Chaos, there is no direction.
No up or down, no left or right, no front or back.
Whichever way you walk, it's forward.
But whichever way you walk, you might just be staying in place.
He closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath.
Then, he remembered what the old man had said—
"Because someone is there, I am not afraid."
Where was that person?
He opened his eyes.
There was still only gray.
But he suddenly discovered something.
That gray was not static.
It was moving.
Flowing.
Changing.
Some gray flowed fast, some flowed slow. Some gray gathered together, forming a vortex. Some gray dispersed, turning into wisps of silk thread.
Looking at the flowing gray, he suddenly understood something.
Chaos is not without direction.
Chaos is all directions.
It's just that people aren't used to walking in it.
Like a child who hasn't learned to walk, who feels the ground is full of obstacles. Only after learning to walk do they realize the ground is full of paths.
He took a step.
Walking forward.
Walking in the direction the gray was flowing.
As his step landed, something was suddenly beneath his foot.
It wasn't solid ground.
It was the feeling of stepping on clouds.
Soft and spongy, yet it truly supported him.
He took another step.
This time, the ground felt firmer.
Like stepping on freshly fallen snow.
Another step.
Like stepping on a mountain path covered in fallen leaves.
Another step.
Like stepping on that bluestone slab in the ancient observatory of Zhongnan Mountain.
He looked down.
There was nothing beneath his feet.
Still gray.
But that gray was supporting him.
Responding to him.
Waiting for him to walk.
Lu Mingyuan raised his head and continued forward.
As he walked, he suddenly smiled.
He remembered what Xuanweizi had said—
"Cultivation is walking. Walk the path beneath your feet well, and you will naturally know how to proceed afterward."
Back then, he didn't understand.
Who doesn't know how to walk?
Now he understood.
Walking is actually very hard.
Walking in Chaos is even harder.
But no matter how hard it is, one must walk.
If you don't walk, you'll never arrive.
Only by walking is it possible.
He didn't know how long he walked.
It could have been a moment, or it could have been ten thousand years.
In Chaos, there is no time.
But he noticed the surrounding gray began to change.
It was no longer that monotonous gray.
Within the gray, colors began to appear.
Faint gold, light azure, and a spectral purple.
Those colors were not fixed.
They changed as he walked.
If he walked left, there was more gold.
If he walked right, there was more azure.
If he stopped, the colors stopped too.
Lu Mingyuan looked at those colors and suddenly remembered something.
Back at Longhu Mountain, Immortal Master Yu Shu had said—
"Talismans have three realms. The first is carrying the Dao through talismans. The second is governing talismans through the Dao. The third is: the talisman is the Dao, and the Dao is the talisman."
Back then, he didn't understand.
How could a talisman be the Dao?
Now, looking at those colors, he suddenly understood.
These colors are the Dao.
They are the manifestation of the Dao within Chaos.
Gold is order, azure is vitality, and purple is nobility.
They weren't painted by anyone.
They were always there.
Just as talismans aren't drawn by men, but are drawn by the Dao through the hands of men.
He reached out and gently touched that golden light.
The gold did not shy away.
It followed his fingers and flowed into his body.
Warm and cozy, like winter sunlight.
Inside his Dantian, that golden seed trembled slightly.
As if in response.
As if saying thank you.
He continued walking.
As he walked, more and more colors appeared.
Gold, azure, purple, red, white, black—
All sorts of colors, like rivers, flowed through Chaos.
Some rivers were wide, some were narrow.
Some flowed fast, some flowed slow.
Some colors were bright, some were dark.
Looking at those rivers, he suddenly remembered another thing.
Back at Wudang Mountain, on Great Emperor Zhenwu's demon suppression map, the Six Paths of Reincarnation were depicted. Back then, he didn't understand why the Six Paths were drawn as six rivers.
Now he understood.
Because the Dao is a river.
Where it flows is not decided by the river itself.
It is decided by the one who walks.
Whichever way you walk, the river flows that way.
If you don't walk, the river stops there.
Waiting for you.
Suddenly, he heard a voice.
It wasn't heard with his ears.
It was heard in his heart.
The voice was light and faint, like wind blowing across water.
"Still walking?"
Lu Mingyuan stopped.
He looked all around.
There was no one.
Only those colorful rivers flowing silently beside him.
He heard the voice again.
"Are you tired from walking?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
"I'm not tired."
The voice laughed.
That laughter was like spring sunlight shining on one's body.
"It's good that you're not tired. When you are tired, take a rest. Once rested, walk again."
Lu Mingyuan asked:
"And you are?"
The voice was silent for a while.
"Who I am is not important. What matters is that you are walking."
Lu Mingyuan fell silent.
He remembered what the old man had said—
"Inside the door, there are many people. They are all waiting for you."
Could this person be one of them?
He didn't know.
But he was willing to believe it was so.
He continued walking.
As he walked, those rivers gradually merged.
Merging into one great river.
That river was so wide its opposite bank was invisible.
So deep its bottom was invisible.
So long its source and end were both invisible.
The color of the river water was an indescribable hue.
It wasn't gold, azure, or purple.
It was a color where all colors mixed, yet it looked like none of them.
But that river was very quiet.
Quiet as if it were waiting for someone.
Lu Mingyuan stood by the river, watching it.
He suddenly remembered the inscription left by Daoist Songyun—
"Insolubility is the solution. No need to ask is the answer."
He didn't understand it.
But he knew this river was telling him something.
Telling him that the Dao is just like this.
It cannot be spoken of, it need not be spoken of.
Once spoken, it is no longer the Dao.
But if it isn't spoken, how can one know?
He stood there and thought for a long time.
Then, he stepped forward and walked into the river.
The river water submerged his ankles.
Cool and clear, like mountain spring water.
But that water was not water.
It was the Dao.
It was the essence of the Dao.
Standing in the river, he felt that golden seed in his Dantian growing frantically.
It wasn't growing upward.
It was growing inward.
Growing into the depths.
Growing toward that invisible place.
As it grew, he suddenly saw something.
On the opposite bank.
There was a palace.
Purple walls, azure tiles, and a golden door.
Zixiao Palace.
The Zixiao Palace he had just entered before it vanished.
Now, it was right there on the opposite bank.
Waiting for him.
He looked at the palace.
It was very close.
So close it seemed he could reach it by extending a hand.
Yet it was very far.
So far it seemed separated by ten thousand years.
He stepped forward, walking toward the other side.
The river water grew deeper and deeper.
Submerging his knees, his waist, his chest, his neck.
Finally, it submerged the top of his head.
He was in the river.
The river was him.
The river was the Dao.
He was the Dao.
He didn't know how long he walked.
It could have been a moment, or it could have been ten thousand years.
In Chaos, there is no time.
But when he raised his head again, he was already standing on the opposite bank.
Standing before the gates of Zixiao Palace.
The door was still golden.
Those three characters were still inscribed.
But this time, the door was open.
Open and waiting for him.
Standing before the door, he took a deep breath.
Then, he thought back on the journey he had taken.
He thought of the gray, the colors, the rivers.
He thought of that voice asking, "Still walking?"
He thought of that river of unknown depth.
He thought of Daoist Songyun's line: "Insolubility is the solution."
He suddenly understood something.
It wasn't that he understood a principle.
He understood walking itself.
Walking is not for the sake of arriving.
Walking itself is arriving.
Every step is an arrival.
Every time one takes a step, one has arrived.
Standing before the gates of Zixiao Palace, he had already arrived.
But he still had to walk.
To walk through that door.
To walk into that place where there were still countless paths to take.
He took a step and entered the door.
Inside the door was endless light.
In the depths of the light sat countless people.
Each of those people was like a mountain.
Like a sea.
Like Heaven and Earth.
They sat there, looking at him.
They didn't speak.
They just looked at him.
But in those gazes, there were a thousand words.
There was expectation, scrutiny, curiosity, and kindness.
And—
The Dao.
Their gazes were filled with the Dao.
Lu Mingyuan stood there, being watched by those gazes.
He didn't shy away.
Nor did he lower his head.
He just stood there, letting them look.
Because he knew they weren't looking at him as a person.
They were looking at the path he walked.
Looking at how he walked from Zhongnan Mountain to this place.
Looking at how he walked from The Rift to this place.
Looking at how he walked from the side of those who had died to this place.
Looking at how he walked step by step from Chaos to this place.
Suddenly, he saw someone.
That person sat in the deepest part, in the very depths of all the light.
His face couldn't be seen clearly.
Only a silhouette could be seen.
An aged silhouette.
But he recognized that silhouette.
It was that old man.
The old man who had brought him here.
The old man sat there, looking at him.
Then, the old man smiled.
That smile was the same as when he had laughed at him at the entrance to Chaos.
As gentle as spring sunlight.
Lu Mingyuan also smiled.
He stood there, looking at the old man, looking at those countless people, and looking at that endless light.
Then, he spoke.
"I have come."
His voice was very light.
But in Zixiao Palace, it rang out like thunder.
The light trembled slightly.
The people nodded slightly.
The old man gave a slight nod of his head.
Then, that voice rang out again.
The same voice that had asked him "Still walking?" in Chaos.
"It's good that you've come. Sit down."
Lu Mingyuan asked:
"Where should I sit?"
The voice laughed.
"You can sit anywhere. In Zixiao Palace, there is no high or low, no noble or base. You can sit wherever you wish."
Lu Mingyuan looked around.
There was light everywhere, and people everywhere.
There were no empty seats.
But when he looked again, he suddenly discovered—
There were empty seats everywhere.
That light and those people were leaving countless spots for him.
Waiting for him to choose.
Waiting for him to sit.
He smiled.
He found a random spot and sat down.
As he sat down, he suddenly remembered something.
In Zhongnan Mountain, the first time he heard Xuanweizi preach the Dao, he was sitting.
In Longhu Mountain, the first time he drew a talisman, he was sitting.
In Shaolin, the first time he heard Zen Master Huijue speak of "Emptiness and Existence are Not Two," he was sitting.
In Yuelu, the first time he read Zhu Xi's handwriting, he was sitting.
In Mount Hua, the first time he saw the world's sword arts converge, he was also sitting.
Walking is for the sake of sitting down.
Sitting down is for the sake of walking better.
He sat there, waiting.
Waiting for that voice to say the next sentence.
Waiting for this endless light to tell him something.
Waiting for these countless people to ask him something.
Waiting for himself to say something.