177: Chapter 177 A Feeling of Powerlessness
By the edge of The Rift, Lu Mingyuan had been sitting for three days and three nights.
In those three days, he hadn't closed his eyes, eaten anything, or spoken a single word. He just sat there, between darkness and light, between hope and despair, between what should and shouldn't be. His Wanxiang Heaven and Earth had withdrawn into his heart, his Xuan-shu Path had retracted beneath his feet, and his small tree was still growing, but he could no longer feel it. He could only feel one thing—powerlessness.
That powerlessness wasn't physical; it was in his heart. His heart was heavy, as if pressed down by a mountain. His heart was weighted, as if dragging a piece of iron. His heart was weary, as if he had traveled a hundred and eight thousand miles. He thought of what Dark Emperor An had said—“Your love cannot fill my void.” He thought of his own love; it was tiny, like a grain of sand. He thought of his own compassion; it was shallow, like a drop of water. He thought of his own light; it was weak, like a firefly. Can a grain of sand truly build a pagoda? Can a drop of water truly form an ocean? Can a single firefly truly light up the night?
"Lu Mingyuan." Sun Wukong walked over and squatted beside him. "You haven't eaten for three days."
"Not hungry."
"You haven't slept for three days."
"Not sleepy."
"You haven't spoken for three days."
"Don't want to talk."
Sun Wukong looked at him, looking at this scholar who had come out of Heyin City, looking at this man who had won the debate against The Sages in Zixiao Palace, looking at this man who stood his ground at the South Heaven Gate. There was no longer light in his eyes, only one thing—gray. That gray wasn't darkness; it was the ashes of light.
"What are you thinking about?" Sun Wukong asked.
"Thinking about whether I've taken the wrong path."
"The wrong path? How so?"
"An said that resistance is useless, and that completion is the Righteous Path. But I've mended, I've delivered, I've transformed. Shi Xin was mended, the Three Thousand Demon Soldiers were mended, and the Taiyi Demon General was mended. But The Rift is still there, the Devilish Qi is still there, and An is still there. For every one I mend, An creates ten. For every one I deliver, An makes a hundred. For every one I transform, An grows a thousand. It cannot be mended, delivered, or transformed to completion."
Sun Wukong fell silent. He didn't know how to answer. He had fought for half his life and had never considered this question. If he couldn't win, he fought harder. If he couldn't kill them, he killed more. If he couldn't defeat them, he fought longer. But Lu Mingyuan's problem wasn't about being unable to win; it was that fighting was useless. It wasn't about being unable to kill; it was that killing was useless. It wasn't about being unable to defeat; it was that the battle itself was useless.
"Old Sun doesn't understand these things," Sun Wukong said. "Old Sun only knows to fight when it's time to fight, kill when it's time to kill, and battle when it's time to battle. If you teach Old Sun to deliver, Old Sun will deliver. If you teach Old Sun to mend, Old Sun will mend. If you teach Old Sun to transform, Old Sun will transform. But if you say the path is wrong, then Old Sun doesn't know. Old Sun only knows to follow you. Wherever you go, Old Sun follows."
Lu Mingyuan looked at him, looking at this monkey who had come out of Huaguo Mountain, looking at this person who had become a Buddha at Spirit Mountain, looking at this person who was willing to follow him. Something stirred in his eyes—not light, but the moving realization that "there is still someone willing to follow me."
"Thank you," Lu Mingyuan said.
"Thank you for what?"
"Thank you for being willing to follow me."
"What's there to thank? You are Old Sun's brother. Brothers should follow brothers."
---
On the fourth day, Yang Jian arrived.
He sat on Lu Mingyuan's other side, his three-pointed double-edged blade propped on the ground, his Heavenly Eye half-open and half-closed. He looked at that Rift, at the Devilish Qi surging from it, and at the living beings struggling within that Devilish Qi.
"I've fought for half my life," Yang Jian said. "From the Investiture of the Gods Calamity to the Journey to the West Great Tribulation, and from the Journey to the West Great Tribulation to the Dharma-Ending Kalpa. I've killed humans, I've killed Yao, and I've killed demons. I thought that killing was the Dao. Kill one bad person, and the good people are a bit safer. Kill one evil Yao, and the kind people are a bit more peaceful. Kill one demon soldier, and the mortal world is a bit more stable. But today, I'm not so sure."
"Why?" Lu Mingyuan asked.
"Because I found that for every demon soldier I kill, ten more are born in The Rift. Kill ten, and a hundred are born. Kill a hundred, and a thousand are born. They can't be killed off. They can't be exhausted. They can't be eradicated. I've killed for half my life; how many humans have I killed? How many Yao? How many demons? But has the world become better? No. The Rift grows larger, the Devilish Qi grows thicker, and An grows stronger. Everything I killed has become nourishment for An. The more I kill, the stronger An becomes. The harder I fight, the closer the Dharma Ending Age approaches."
"Then do you regret it?"
"I don't regret it. Those who should be killed must still be killed. Those who should be fought must still be fought. Those who should be battled must still be battled. But I'm also thinking, is there another way? One where we can protect without killing. Win without fighting. Prevail without battling."
"There is," Lu Mingyuan said. "Mending. Delivering. Transforming. Not destroying the enemy, but healing the patient. Not resistance, but completion. Not killing, but love."
"But your love isn't big enough," Yang Jian said. "An was right. Your love cannot fill his void. Your compassion cannot transform his resentment. Your light cannot illuminate his darkness."
"I know."
"Then what do you plan to do?"
"Grow. Let love grow, let compassion deepen, and let the light brighten."
"How will it grow? How will it deepen? How will it brighten?"
Lu Mingyuan fell silent. He didn't know. He only knew it had to grow, but he didn't know how. He only knew it had to deepen, but he didn't know how. He only knew it had to brighten, but he didn't know how.
"I don't know," Lu Mingyuan said.
Yang Jian looked at him, looking at this scholar who had come out of Heyin City, looking at this man who had won the debate against The Sages in Zixiao Palace, looking at this man who stood his ground at the South Heaven Gate. There was no longer light in his eyes, only one thing—gray. That gray wasn't darkness; it was the ashes of light.
"Then think about it slowly," Yang Jian said. "I'll accompany you. Sun Wukong will accompany you. Bai Ze will accompany you. All those willing to stand will accompany you. You are not alone."
Lu Mingyuan nodded. "Alright. I'll think about it slowly."
---
On the fifth day, Bai Ze arrived.
It landed on Lu Mingyuan's shoulder and gently patted his head with its wing. "What are you thinking about?"
"Thinking about whether I've taken the wrong path."
"You haven't taken the wrong path."
"But An said my love isn't big enough."
"He's right. Your love isn't big enough. But your love is growing. From Heyin City to Zhongnan Mountain, your love grew a little. From Zhongnan Mountain to the Three Mountains of Daoism, it grew a little more. From the Three Mountains of Daoism to the Three Temples of Buddhism, from the Three Temples of Buddhism to the Three Academies of Confucianism, and from the Three Academies of Confucianism to the Three Sects of Martial Arts, your love has been growing all along. From The Rift to Kunlun, from Kunlun to the East Sea, from the East Sea to Zixiao Palace, your love has been growing. From the Heavenly Court to the mortal world, and from the mortal world to The Rift, your love has been growing. Your love is small, but it is growing. That is enough."
"But it's too slow. An is too large, vast without end. My love is too small, like a grain of sand. How long will it take for a grain of sand to build a pagoda? Ten thousand years? A hundred thousand years? A million years? The Dharma Ending Age cannot wait that long. The Three Realms cannot wait that long. All living beings cannot wait that long."
"So you're giving up?"
"I'm not giving up. But I don't know what to do either."
Bai Ze fell silent. It thought for a moment and then said, "Do you know? Houtu also encountered this problem."
"Houtu?"
"Yes. During the Witch-Demon Calamity, the Witch Race and the Yao Race were fighting, killing each other until even the heavens were shattered. Houtu thought, how can we stop the killing? How can we achieve completion? She thought for a long time—a thousand years, ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years. Later, she understood: killing happens because of a void. A lack of love, a lack of understanding, a lack of tolerance. To mend, one must use love, understanding, and tolerance. So she transformed into Reincarnation, giving the dead a place to go and the living a reason to hope. What she mended wasn't the sky, but the heart. If the sky is broken, it can be mended. If the heart is broken, how do you mend it?"
"Mend it with the heart."
"Yes. Mend it with the heart. Use your heart to mend the hearts of others. Use your love to fill their voids. Use your understanding to mend their resentment. Use your tolerance to mend their hatred. But this takes time. It takes a very, very long time. It took Houtu a hundred thousand years to understand. You've only been thinking for five days; what's the rush?"
Lu Mingyuan was stunned. "A hundred thousand years?"
"Yes. A hundred thousand years. You are only twenty-five. You've only been walking for two years. You've only been mending for a few months. What's the rush?"
Lu Mingyuan smiled. The smile was faint, but there was something in that lightness—a sense of relief that "I don't need to be in such a rush." "I'm not in a rush. But the Dharma Ending Age is. The Three Realms are. All living beings are."
"If the Dharma Ending Age is in a rush, then you should be even less so. If you rush, you'll get flustered. If you're flustered, you'll make mistakes. If you make mistakes, you'll backtrack. Backtracking means resistance. Resistance is nourishment. Nourishment makes An stronger. If An is stronger, the Dharma Ending Age becomes even more urgent. Rushing only makes things worse."
"Then what should I do?"
"Take it slow. Walk slowly, stand slowly, guard slowly, and mend slowly. Take one step at a time. Stand for one day at a time. Guard one inch at a time. Mend one person at a time. Don't think too much, don't think too far, and don't think too big. Just think about today. Today, how many can you mend? Today, how many can you deliver? Today, how many can you transform? To mend one is still mending. To deliver one is still delivering. To transform one is still transforming. Even just one is mending. Even just one is delivering. Even just one is transforming."
Lu Mingyuan stood there, just standing. He remembered what Xuanweizi had said—“Cultivation is like walking. Walk the path beneath your feet well, and you will naturally know how to proceed.” He remembered his own words—“Keep walking, until the day it is mended.” He remembered what Dark Emperor An had said—“Your love cannot fill my void.” He remembered what Bai Ze had said—“Even just one is mending.”
He smiled. The smile was faint, but there was something in that lightness—a sense of groundedness, an "I understand" feeling.
"Alright. Even just one is mending. Today, if I can mend one, I will mend one. Tomorrow, if I can mend two, I will mend two. The day after tomorrow, if I can mend three, I will mend three. Mend one a day, that's three hundred and sixty-five in a year. In a hundred years, that's thirty-six thousand five hundred. In ten thousand years, that's three million six hundred and fifty thousand. By mending bit by bit, it will eventually become many. When there are many, it will become large. When it is large, it can mend even more."