123: Chapter 123 Zixiao Palace Gate
Lu Mingyuan sat down.
He sat within that endless light.
After sitting down, he realized—this light didn't shine from outside his body.
It shone outward from within his heart.
As he sat there, as long as his heart was bright, the light remained bright.
If his heart darkened, the light would dim.
But there was no darkness here.
There was only brightness.
Brightness of every kind.
The light on some people was golden, shining like the sun.
The light on some was cyan, shining like a spring forest.
The light on some was white, shining like the snow atop a mountain peak.
And the light on some was transparent.
So transparent it seemed as if nothing was there.
Yet within that transparency, everything existed.
Looking at those lights, he thought of the golden seed within his Dantian.
That seed was also emitting light.
It was very faint.
So faint it was like a lamp that had just been lit.
But it was shining.
Slowly and steadily, it shone.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps.
It wasn't just one person.
It was many people.
He looked toward the sound.
The gates of Zixiao Palace were still open.
Outside the gates, within the Chaos, countless lights were approaching.
Those lights drew closer and closer.
They grew brighter and brighter.
Then, the first person walked in.
It was an old man wearing purple Daoist robes, holding a fly-whisk in his hand. His hair was entirely white, as white as snow. Yet his face was as smooth as a baby's.
Behind him followed many people.
Some wore green, some wore white, and some wore red. When they entered, the light within Zixiao Palace trembled slightly.
The old man glanced at Lu Mingyuan.
Just a single glance.
But within that glance were countless words.
There was "Who are you?", "How did you get here?", and "By what right do you sit here?"
But within that glance, there was also kindness.
There was curiosity.
There was expectation.
The old man didn't speak and continued walking forward.
He sat down not far from Lu Mingyuan.
The people behind him also sat down.
The gates had not yet closed.
More people walked in.
There were monks in kasayas with shaved heads, their bodies shimmering with golden light. Their light was different from the others. It wasn't just bright; it was warm. Like a hearth fire in winter.
There were scholars in Confucian robes, holding scrolls in their hands. Their light was cyan, like bamboo. Not the kind of bamboo that pricks, but the kind that has grown in the mountains for many years, remaining unmoved by wind or rain.
There were generals in armor with swords at their waists. Their light was white, as cold as frost. But within that cold, there was also heat. A heat born of protection.
There were Loose Cultivators in tattered Daoist robes who walked in alone, looking at no one, and found a corner to sit in. Their light was very faint, as if about to go out. But looking closely, there was something within that faintness. Something that cared for nothing and feared nothing.
There were many more.
All sorts of people.
Men and women, old and young, humans and demons, immortals and devils.
But as they walked in, Zixiao Palace accepted them all.
It gave them all light.
It gave them all a place to sit.
Looking at those people, Lu Mingyuan suddenly remembered something.
Back at Longhu Mountain, he had asked Immortal Master Yu Shu—
"There are so many people in the world practicing the Dao, do they all practice the same thing?"
Immortal Master Yu Shu said:
"No. Some practice talismans, some practice the sword, some practice alchemy, and some practice the heart. But in the end, it is all the same."
He asked:
"How is it the same?"
Immortal Master Yu Shu said:
"It is the same in that they are all walking the path."
Looking at the countless people in Zixiao Palace, he suddenly understood Immortal Master Yu Shu's words.
What these people practiced was all different.
But they were all walking the path.
Walking their own paths.
And they had all walked here.
They had all walked into this Zixiao Palace.
People were still entering through the gates.
More and more.
Too many to count.
After some sat down, they began to speak.
Not with their mouths.
They spoke with light.
The light on their bodies brightened and dimmed, strengthened and weakened, as if they were communicating.
Lu Mingyuan couldn't understand the words spoken by that light.
But he knew they were discussing him.
They were looking at him, the newcomer.
This young man sitting here with only a faint golden light on his body.
He could feel those gazes.
Some were curious, some doubtful, some kind, and some disdainful.
But he didn't care.
He just sat there and let them look.
Because he knew they weren't looking at him.
They were looking at the path he walked.
To see if the path he walked was worth their attention.
Suddenly, all the lights went quiet.
A person walked in through the gates.
That person looked older than everyone else.
So old that one couldn't remember his face.
But looking closely, one felt he wasn't old at all.
Those eyes were as clear as a newborn baby's.
Those hands were as clean as if they had never touched a speck of dust.
He wore cyan-gray Daoist robes, washed until they were pale and covered in patches. A hemp rope was tied around his waist, with a gourd hanging from it. On his feet were straw sandals stained with mud.
Just like before.
Like an old farmer who had just returned from the fields.
But the moment he walked in, everyone stood up.
Including the old men in purple Daoist robes.
Including the eminent monks shimmering with golden light.
Including the generals with swords at their waists.
Including the Loose Cultivators who cared for nothing.
Everyone stood up.
Lu Mingyuan also stood up.
The old man glanced at them.
Then, he smiled.
That smile was as gentle as spring sunshine.
"Sit down."
He said.
Everyone sat down.
Including the old men in purple Daoist robes.
Including the eminent monks shimmering with golden light.
Including the generals with swords at their waists.
Including the Loose Cultivators who cared for nothing.
Including Lu Mingyuan.
They all sat down.
The old man walked to the deepest part, to the position where Lu Mingyuan couldn't clearly see his face, and sat down.
He sat at the very depth of all that light.
After he sat down, the gates of Zixiao Palace finally closed.
No one closed them.
They closed on their own.
After the gates closed, Zixiao Palace became even brighter.
It wasn't a blinding brightness.
It was the kind of brightness where everything could be seen clearly.
Lu Mingyuan looked at those people, and those people were also looking at him.
Suddenly, the old man spoke.
"Is everyone here?"
His voice was very light, like the wind blowing through bamboo leaves.
But that voice was heard clearly by everyone.
Everyone nodded.
The old man looked at them for a long time.
Then, he smiled again.
"It is good that you have come."
He paused.
"I have invited you all here today because I want you to listen to one person speak."
Everyone looked toward Lu Mingyuan.
Lu Mingyuan's heart skipped a beat.
The old man continued:
"This person comes from the Dharma-Ending Kalpa. He comes from the edge of The Rift. He comes from the side of those who have died."
He paused.
"He has walked a path. A path that none of us have walked before."
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
"I want him to tell us what path he has walked."
Everyone looked at Lu Mingyuan.
Those gazes felt even heavier than before.
As heavy as mountains.
But Lu Mingyuan did not hide.
He stood up.
He stood there.
Looking at those people.
Looking at those mountains.
Looking at those seas.
Looking at those heavens and earths.
Then, he spoke.
"My name is Lu Mingyuan."
His voice was light.
But within Zixiao Palace, it rang out like thunder.
He paused and continued:
"I come from the Dharma-Ending Kalpa. From that Rift in the Northwest. From the side of those who have died."
He looked at the people.
"The path I walked was nothing special. It was just walking."
Someone laughed.
That laughter rang out like a bell.
But within that laughter, there was no malice.
Only curiosity.
Lu Mingyuan also smiled.
"Truly. It was just walking."
He looked at the person who had laughed.
"From Zhongnan Mountain to Longhu Mountain, from Longhu Mountain to Wudang Mountain, from Wudang Mountain to Shaolin, from Shaolin to Yuelu, from Yuelu to Mount Hua, from Mount Hua to Mount Buzhou, and from Mount Buzhou to The Rift."
He paused.
"One step is one step. Two steps are two steps. When I couldn't walk anymore, I rested. When I was rested, I walked again."
That person laughed again.
This time, there was something in the laughter.
There was recognition.
The kind of thing that said 'I understand'.
The old man looked at Lu Mingyuan.
"Is that all?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
"There is more."
He took a deep breath.
"While walking, I realized something."
The old man asked:
"What did you realize?"
Lu Mingyuan looked at those lights, those people, and that endless everything.
Then, he said:
"I realized—The heart is the Xuan Shu of all laws."
Zixiao Palace suddenly fell silent.
It was as quiet as if not a single person was there.
Those lights all stopped.
Those people all looked at Lu Mingyuan.
Motionless.
Lu Mingyuan stood there and let them look.
He knew that what he had said had surprised them.
It made them want to hear more.
It made them—begin to look at him seriously.
He looked at the old man.
The old man was also looking at him.
In that gaze, there was light.
The kind of gentle, expectant, and gratified light.
Lu Mingyuan suddenly understood one thing—
He hadn't come here to listen to a lecture.
He had come to give one.
To speak of the path he walked.
To speak of the Dao he realized.
To speak of that 'heart as the Xuan Shu of all laws'.
He looked at those people and took a deep breath.
Then, he began to wait.
Waiting for the old man to say the next word.
Waiting for those people to start questioning him.
Waiting for him—to begin speaking.