193: Chapter 193 The Resolution to Mending the Sky

Chaos has no boundaries and no center.

The moment Lu Mingyuan stepped into Chaos, he knew he had come to the right place. There was no sky, no earth, no time, and no space. Only a hazy gray expanse, like the world before it was ever opened. That gray was not a color, but 'nothingness.' There was no light, no darkness, no up, no down, no front, and no back. There was nothing, yet there was everything. Because Chaos is the source of all things; all laws come from here and must eventually return here.

He stood in Chaos with Bai Ze perched on his shoulder and the oil lamp in his hand. The lamp was still lit, flickering rhythmically like a heartbeat. That light was the only light in Chaos, very faint, as weak as a firefly's glow. But that light would not go out, because Zhao Sanniang had given him her heart, and he had brought that heart into Chaos. With the light of a heart, even Chaos could not swallow it.

"Bai Ze, how big is Chaos?"

"It has no size. Size is a concept of space, and there is no space in Chaos."

"How long has Chaos existed?"

"There is no duration. Duration is a concept of time, and there is no time in Chaos."

"Then how do I know where I am? How do I know how much time has passed?"

"You don't need to know. When you are in Chaos, Chaos is in your heart. Wherever you go, Chaos follows. However long you have passed, Chaos has passed. You and Chaos are one, because you came from Chaos and must return to it."

Lu Mingyuan fell silent. He remembered what Xuanweizi had said: "Cultivation is walking." Now he truly understood that walking was not traveling between heaven and earth, but within one's own heart. Heaven and earth are the world outside the heart; Chaos is the world within. Traveling across the world is not as good as traveling back to oneself.

Just as he was about to move forward, he suddenly sensed an aura. It was an aura so familiar it felt as if it had grown out of his own heart. No, it wasn't just 'like' it—it was. Because that aura came from Zixiao Palace, from Hongjun, and from the source of all laws.

"Lu Mingyuan, come to Zixiao Palace."

It was Hongjun's voice. The voice came from the depths of Chaos, with no direction, no distance, and no proximity. Because Hongjun was not in a specific place within Chaos; Hongjun was Chaos. Wherever Chaos was, Hongjun was there.

Lu Mingyuan followed that aura. There was no path and no direction, but he knew how to walk. Because the heart is the path, and the path is the heart. Wherever the heart goes, the path opens. As he walked, Chaos changed. The hazy gray mist dispersed, and a palace appeared before him. The palace was not large, yet it was big enough to contain the entire world. The palace was not tall, yet it was high enough to touch the source of all laws. The palace was not ornate, yet it was so solemn it made one want to kneel.

Zixiao Palace.

Lu Mingyuan walked inside. The palace was already filled with people. The Three Pure Ones sat at the very front; Taishang Laojun sat with his eyes closed, resting his spirit; Yuanshi Tianzun held a jade ruyi; and Tongtian Jiao Zhu had four swords strapped to his back. Tathagata sat on the right, with Manjushri, Samantabhadra, and Guanyin behind him. Nuwa sat on the left, holding the Five-Colored Stones in her hand. Houtu sat beside Nuwa, with the phantom of Reincarnation beneath her feet.

There were other Saints as well. Jieyin, Zhunti, Zhenyuanzi, Fuxi, Shennong, Xuanyuan... everyone who could come was there, and those who couldn't had sent their Incarnations. The entire Zixiao Palace was a gathering of ten thousand immortals and all the Saints.

Lu Mingyuan walked to the center and bowed to the Saints.

"Lu Mingyuan greets the Saints."

"No need for such ceremony." Taishang Laojun opened his eyes and looked at him with gratification in his gaze. "We know of your deeds in the Northwest. In three months, you moved two thousand three hundred civilians, guarded sixteen villages, sealed six mine tunnels, delivered five demon generals, built eighty-one outposts, and gathered three hundred and eighty people. You have done very well."

"It is not enough," Lu Mingyuan said. "The Northwest is only a corner of the Rift Zone. The world is vast and The Rifts are many; my strength alone is but a drop in the bucket."

"That is why you have come to Chaos," Yuanshi Tianzun said. "To come to Chaos to find the source of Mending the Heavens."

"Yes. Resistance is useless; completion is the Righteous Path. But completion requires power, wisdom, and the source. The source is not between heaven and earth, but in Chaos. Pangu opened the heavens, and Chaos gave birth to the Taiji. To mend the heavens, one must also start from Chaos. By finding the Origin of Chaos, one can find the fundamental method for Mending the Heavens."

"Do you know what lies within Chaos?" Tongtian Jiao Zhu asked.

"I do not."

"In Chaos, there are fallen Demon Gods, shattered worlds, the wreckage of kalpas, and the relics of the creation of heaven. There are also the Seven Saints Evolution of the Way—the Heavenly Dao, Earthly Dao, Human Dao, Divine Dao, Immortal Dao, Buddhist Dao, and Demonic Dao. These seven Daos share the same source, all emerging from Chaos. If you can find them, you can integrate them. Once integrated, you can attain the Dao of Hunyuan. And once you attain the Dao of Hunyuan, you can mend the heavens."

Lu Mingyuan listened without speaking. He knew that what Tongtian Jiao Zhu described was not just a path, but a tribulation. Every step on the path within Chaos was a calamity. The Remnants of the Demon Gods, the wreckage of kalpas, and the Seven Saints' Manifestations—each was a brush with death. But he had no path of retreat, because if he went back, heaven and earth would be gone. If heaven and earth were gone, those guarding the outposts would have guarded for nothing. Zhao Sanniang's lamp would have been given in vain. Gousheng's waiting would have been for nothing.

"I am not afraid," Lu Mingyuan said. "Since I have walked this far, I can keep going. If I keep going, I will arrive. And once I arrive, I can mend it."

The Saints looked at him for a long time. In their eyes, there was scrutiny, expectation, worry, and hope. This scholar who had walked out of Heyin City had taken less than a hundred years to go from a Mortal to a Quasi-Saint. Every step of his path had been in the mud, yet every step had blossomed with flowers. His Dao had wavered in doubt every time, yet it had become firmer through that wavering every time. He had fallen in despair every time, yet he had stood up from that fall every time.

"Mending the Heavens is not the task of one person," Hongjun's voice came from the Void Realm. The Dao Ancestor did not manifest; there was only his voice. But that voice was more powerful than a physical presence, because it came from Chaos, from the source of all laws, and from where everything began.

"The deficiency of the Heavenly Dao was not formed in a day. The Seven Great Calamities—Creation, Vicious Beasts, Dragon and Phoenix, Wu and Yao, Investiture of the Gods, Journey to the West, and the Dharma-Ending Kalpa—have gathered immeasurable resentment into the An. The An is not evil; it is a deficiency. It is the projection of the Heavenly Dao's missing parts, the collection of resentment from countless kalpas. Mending the Heavens is not about patching a single rift; it is about mending the deficiencies of immeasurable kalpas. It is not about killing a single An; it is about transforming the resentment of immeasurable kalpas."

Hongjun paused, his voice growing even deeper.

"Therefore, Mending the Heavens requires the strength of everyone. The Saints shall act as Protectors, ten thousand immortals shall provide aid, and the Three Realms shall be of one heart. Lu Mingyuan shall enter Chaos to seek the source, while the Saints guard the Three Realms to await his return. Once he finds the source, we will protect him as he mends the heavens. When he returns, we will help him weave the Dao. If he falls, we will take his place and continue the walk."

The Saints responded in unison. The sound echoed through Zixiao Palace, through Chaos, and through the Three Realms. The will of ten thousand immortals gathered together like a great river, flowing toward the abyss of the Dharma-Ending Kalpa. That river was not large, but it flowed—it flowed in the darkness, it flowed through resentment, and it flowed through despair. As it flowed, it grew wider.

"Lu Mingyuan," Hongjun said.

"I am here."

"Are you willing to enter Chaos to seek the source?"

"I am."

"Are you willing to use your body as a shuttle to reweave the Heavenly Dao?"

"I am."

"Are you willing to use your heart as thread to sew up the flaws?"

"I am."

"Are you willing to pledge your life as an oath, never stopping until the end?"

Lu Mingyuan was silent for a moment. It was not hesitation, but a thought: what did he have? He had his life. If he gave his life, he would have nothing left. But if he didn't give it, heaven and earth would be gone. If heaven and earth were gone, what use was his life?

"I am."

"Good." In Hongjun's voice, there was a rare hint of warmth. "Go then. There is no time in Chaos; however long you walk, that is how long will pass in the Prehistoric World. Wherever you go, we will guard. If you return, we will welcome you. If you cannot return, we will take your place."

Lu Mingyuan bowed deeply to the Saints. He bowed to Taishang Laojun, thanking him for his guidance. He bowed to Yuanshi Tianzun, thanking him for order. He bowed to Tongtian Jiao Zhu, thanking him for vitality. He bowed to Tathagata, thanking him for compassion. He bowed to Nuwa, thanking him for creation. He bowed to Houtu, thanking her for endurance. He bowed to all the Saints, thanking them for their protection.

Then he turned, walked out of Zixiao Palace, and headed into the depths of Chaos.

Bai Ze was on his shoulder, and the oil lamp was in his hand. The lamp was still lit, flickering rhythmically. That light was the only light in Chaos, very faint, as weak as a firefly's glow. But that light would not go out, because Zhao Sanniang had given him her heart, and he had brought that heart into Chaos. The Saints had given him hope, and he had brought that hope into Chaos. The ten thousand immortals had given him their trust, and he had brought that trust into Chaos.

With the light of a heart, even Chaos could not swallow it. With the light of hope, even darkness could not extinguish it. With the light of trust, even despair could not crush it.

In the depths of Chaos, the hazy gray mist churned. Within that mist were fallen Demon Gods, shattered worlds, the wreckage of kalpas, and the relics of the creation of heaven. There were also the Seven Saints Evolution of the Way—the Heavenly Dao, Earthly Dao, Human Dao, Divine Dao, Immortal Dao, Buddhist Dao, and Demonic Dao. These seven Daos share the same source, all emerging from Chaos.

Lu Mingyuan walked in. He was not hurried, not agitated, and not attached. He walked slowly, steadily, and gently. One step at a time, one day at a time, one year at a time. As he walked, he would eventually arrive. Once he arrived, he would find the source for Mending the Heavens. Once he found it, he could return. Once he returned, he could mend the heavens. Once mended, the sky would brighten.

Once it brightened, those guarding the outposts could go home. Once it brightened, Zhao Sanniang could see the lamp. Once it brightened, Gousheng could see the sky. Once it brightened, everyone could smile.

In the depths of Chaos, within his heart, that small tree was still growing. Thirty feet, thirty feet and one inch, thirty feet and two inches. It was very slow, as slow as a snail's crawl. But it was growing—growing in Chaos, growing where there was no time and no space, growing at the source of all laws. Since it was growing, it would eventually grow up. Once grown, it could support a larger heaven, block more demons, and save more people.

That tree was called Xuan Shu. That tree was called Wanxiang. That tree was called Quasi-Saint. That tree was called Lu Mingyuan.

In Zixiao Palace, the Saints watched him walk away. His silhouette grew smaller and smaller, as small as an ant, as small as a grain of dust, as small as a speck of light. That light shone in Chaos, very faint, as weak as a firefly's glow. But that light would not go out; no matter how deep the Chaos, it would not go out; no matter how fierce the Demon Gods, it would not go out; no matter how heavy the kalpas, it would not go out.

That light was called Lu Mingyuan.

Taishang Laojun looked at that light, tears in his eyes. A Saint should not have tears, yet he did. Because he had watched that light grow up, from the ancient temple in Heyin City, from a Mortal who couldn't even sense Spiritual Qi, stepping forward one pace at a time to reach this place. To reach the level of a Quasi-Saint, to reach Chaos, to reach the threshold of Mending the Heavens.

"He will return," Yuanshi Tianzun said.

"He will return," Tongtian Jiao Zhu said.

"He will return," Tathagata said.

"He will return," Nuwa said.

"He will return," Houtu said.

The Saints said in unison: "He will return."

The sound echoed through Zixiao Palace, through Chaos, and through the Three Realms. The will of ten thousand immortals gathered together like a great river, flowing into the depths of Chaos. That river was not large, but it flowed—it flowed in Chaos, it flowed where there was no time and no space, it flowed at the source of all laws. As it flowed, it eventually caught up with that speck of light.

That speck of light shone in Chaos, very faint, as weak as a firefly's glow. But that light would not go out, because there was a river behind it, chasing it. That river was called Hope, that river was called Trust, and that river was called Waiting. That river was called the Saints, that river was called the Ten Thousand Immortals, and that river was called the Three Realms.