204: Chapter 204 Tunnel Demonstration

The light of the Heavenly Dao shone behind him as Lu Mingyuan walked toward the second light.

It was earthy yellow, thick as the ground and heavy as a mountain range. The light wasn't blinding, but it was heavy—so heavy that a single glance added ten thousand catties of weight to one's shoulders. Lu Mingyuan didn't dodge, for he knew that was the burden of the Earthly Dao. Bearing a burden wasn't a weight; it was an uplift. The earth carries all things and never complains of exhaustion. The Earthly Dao upholds all sentient beings and never speaks of hardship.

Standing before the earthy yellow light, he took a deep breath. There was no Qi in Chaos, but he was used to breathing. With each inhalation, his heart grew calmer. With each exhalation, his body felt lighter. Calmer and lighter, he could finally see the Earthly Dao clearly.

Within the light, the images began.

There was no heaven, only earth. The earth was born within Chaos, not falling from the heavens, but precipitating from Chaos. The turbid sank to the bottom and became the earth. The earth was so thick its depth was unknown. It was so vast its scale was immeasurable. It was so steady it remained unmoved for billions of years.

Lu Mingyuan looked at that vast earth and thought of Mount Buzhou. Mount Buzhou was the pillar of heaven; while propping up the sky, it was also the spine of the earth. As long as the mountain didn't fall, the earth wouldn't collapse. During the Witch-Demon Calamity, Mount Buzhou fell, and the earth split. When it split, The Rift appeared. What seeped from The Rift wasn't water, but resentment. It was the earth's wound, a deficiency in the Earthly Dao.

But the earth did not complain. It simply carried, uplifted, and endured. It endured until The Rift healed and the wound scabbed over. Yet beneath the scab, there was still a wound, and even when healed, a scar remained. The earth didn't care about scars, for they too were a part of it.

The images in the light changed. Mountains, rivers, plants, birds, and beasts appeared on the earth, followed by humans. Humans stepped on the earth, and it did not cry out in pain. Humans cut down trees and mined minerals, and it did not cry out in pain. Humans fought wars, rivers of blood flowed, and corpses were buried in the soil, yet the earth still did not cry out in pain.

Lu Mingyuan's eyes grew red. He thought of his mother, though he had never met her. But he knew his mother was the same way—carrying, uplifting, and enduring. Enduring pain, hardship, and tears. Enduring until the child grew up and left, enduring until she grew old, and even in old age, she never cried out in pain.

The earth is the mother of all things.

"Great virtue carries all things," Lu Mingyuan murmured to himself.

Bai Ze nodded. "The earth's disposition is Kun; the gentleman carries all things with great virtue. The virtue of the earth is to carry. It does not pick or choose; it is impartial. When a good person walks upon it, the earth supports them. When a bad person walks upon it, the earth supports them as well. When flowers bloom upon it, the earth nourishes them. When thorns grow upon it, the earth nourishes them too. There is no distinction, no likes or dislikes. This is great virtue."

Lu Mingyuan looked at the earth within the light, seeing everything it carried: mountains, rivers, cities, villages, battlefields, and graveyards. It accepted them all without disdain, for it knew that disdain was useless. The earth is the earth; it cannot choose what to carry. The only thing it can choose is how to carry it. Will it carry with resentment, or with love?

The earth does not feel resentment, for it has no heart. But the Earthly Dao has a heart. The heart of the Earthly Dao is the act of carrying itself. To carry is to love, and love is to carry.

The images in the light changed again. It was no longer the surface of the earth, but its interior. In the deep, deep depths, magma flowed. That was the blood of the earth, hot enough to melt everything. The magma flowed and surged, pushing the crust. When the crust moved, mountains grew, rivers changed course, and seas shifted.

That was the other side of the Earthly Dao: Change. The earth is not dead; it is alive. It moves slowly, so slowly that humans cannot perceive it. But it moves, and as it moves, vast oceans turn into mulberry fields. As it moves, high mountains turn into deep valleys.

Lu Mingyuan remembered a saying: "Heaven and earth are not benevolent; they treat all things as straw dogs." It's not that heaven and earth are heartless, but that they treat everyone equally. They are impartial to all things. Yet treating all things equally is also a form of love—a deeper kind of love. So deep it's invisible, yet it exists.

The images in the light continued to evolve. Cracks appeared in the earth, and magma gushed out. The magma cooled and became new rock. The rock weathered into soil. Grass grew from the soil, grass became great trees, and trees became forests. There were birds and beasts in the forests, primates among the beasts, and humans among the primates.

Humans emerged from the earth and returned to it. Life comes from the earth, and death returns to it. Between coming and going lies the cycle of the Earthly Dao. This cycle is not repetition, but Reincarnation. Life and death, death and life. The earth does not care who is born or who dies. It only cares that the living have ground to stand on and the dead have ground to be buried in.

Lu Mingyuan suddenly thought of Hou Tu, that Ancestral Witch who transformed into Reincarnation, that Saint who sacrificed herself to complete the Earthly Dao. She could have chosen not to transform; she could have lived on as an Ancestral Witch. But she didn't. She chose to transform, she chose death, she chose to become a part of Reincarnation. Because she knew the Earthly Dao was incomplete, lacking Reincarnation. Without Reincarnation, sentient beings would have nowhere to go. With nowhere to go, they would turn into resentment, into Darkness, and into the Calamity.

She used her own life to fill the void in the Earthly Dao.

Lu Mingyuan's eyes grew even redder. He thought of Zhao Sanniang, the old woman who gave him the oil lamp. She wasn't as great as Hou Tu, but her heart was the same—carrying, uplifting, and enduring. Enduring her son's death, the hardships of life, and the cold of loneliness. She could have been resentful, she could have hated, she could have given up. But she didn't. She chose to live, she chose to wait, and she chose to give the lamp to a stranger.

Because she knew that as long as the lamp was lit, there was hope. With hope, one could keep going.

Bai Ze looked into Lu Mingyuan's eyes and knew what he was thinking. It didn't disturb him, allowing him to continue watching the images in the light.

In the light, Reincarnation was evolving. Sentient beings died, but their true spirits were not extinguished, entering Reincarnation. There were Six Paths of Reincarnation: the Heavenly Dao, the Asura Path, the Human Path, the Animal Path, the Hungry Ghost Path, and the Hell Path. It wasn't punishment, but a choice. Sentient beings chose which path to take based on their own karmic deeds. Karmic deeds are not sin; they are Karma. One reaps what one sows. It wasn't someone else judging; it was oneself judging oneself.

Lu Mingyuan looked at the Six Paths of Reincarnation, feeling an indescribable sensation. It wasn't sadness or joy, but awe—awe for the wisdom of the Earthly Dao, awe for the fairness of Reincarnation, and awe for Hou Tu's sacrifice.

He bowed deeply toward the earthy yellow light. It wasn't worshiping a god, but expressing gratitude. Gratitude to the earth for carrying him, gratitude to Reincarnation for accommodating him, and gratitude to Hou Tu for her sacrifice.

The images in the light stopped. The Earthly Dao had shown everything it needed to; the rest was for him to realize on his own.

Lu Mingyuan closed his eyes, reflecting on everything he had just seen. Carrying, Great Virtue, Change, Reincarnation. These four keywords were interwoven within the Earthly Dao. Carrying wasn't passive; it was an active choice. Great Virtue wasn't weakness; it was a powerful inclusion. Change wasn't Chaos; it was an orderly evolution. Reincarnation wasn't punishment; it was an opportunity for growth.

Within his Dantian, that tree grew a bit more. Nine zhang nine, nine zhang nine inches, nine zhang nine feet nine inches. It was just one inch short of ten zhang. The patterns of the Earthly Dao on the trunk became clearer, earthy yellow like the ravines on the earth. The ravines weren't deep, but they were vast—vast enough to hold all things.

Bai Ze looked at his Dantian with relief in its eyes. It knew that Lu Mingyuan was one step closer to becoming a Saint. Not in terms of cultivation, but in terms of state of mind. When the heart is close, the Dao is close. When the Dao is close, attainment is not far off.

Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes and looked at the light of the Earthly Dao. The light was still there, unextinguished. It would keep shining until the end of Chaos. He reached out, wanting to touch the light. Halfway there, he stopped. Not out of fear, but because he wasn't in a hurry. He wanted to see the other five paths first, then integrate them all together.

He withdrew his hand and looked at the third light. It was fiery red, red like blood and hot like fire. That was the Human Dao.

But he knew it wasn't time to look at the Human Dao yet. He had to fully digest the Earthly Dao before moving on. Realizing them separately was not as good as realizing them together, but digesting them one by one was the only way to fuse them later. Digest one, then another. Once all were digested, then fuse them. No step could be skipped; every step had to be steady.

He sat down cross-legged before the earthy yellow light. Closing his eyes, he replayed the Earthly Dao he had just seen in his mind. Carrying, Great Virtue, Change, Reincarnation. Each word became a picture, and each picture became a principle. Principles weren't about quantity, but depth. Sink them deep into the heart to take root. Only when the roots are deep can the tree grow tall.

The tree in his Dantian grew a bit more. It was half an inch away from ten zhang. The earthy yellow patterns on the trunk turned from light yellow to deep yellow as density was added. Density came from realization, and realization came from experience. Only by experiencing can one understand. Only by understanding can one become dense. Only by being dense can one carry all things.

He thought of the path he had traveled. From Heyin City to Zhongnan Mountain, from Zhongnan Mountain to the Three Mountains, Three Temples, Three Courtyards, and Three Sects, from the Three Teachings to the Primordial Era, from the Primordial Era to Zixiao, and from Zixiao to Chaos. Every step was on the earth, and every step was supported by it. The earth did not choose him, and he did not choose the earth. Yet they met, and once they met, they could not be separated. Because every place he stepped was a memory of the earth. Everywhere he went was an extension of the earth.

Lu Mingyuan smiled. He realized another side of the Earthly Dao: Memory. The earth remembers everything. It remembers every step he took, every drop of sweat he shed, and every drop of blood he spilled. The earth does not forget, for forgetting is betrayal. The earth does not betray, so the earth is eternal.

He stood up and bowed deeply to the light of the Earthly Dao. Gratitude to the earth for remembering him, for supporting him, and for waiting for him.

The seven lights were still shining, with the light of the Earthly Dao being the most substantial. But the other lights were not weak either; they were waiting for Lu Mingyuan to see, to realize, and to integrate them all.

Lu Mingyuan was in no hurry to see the third light. He sat down and continued to digest. The Earthly Dao was too thick, so thick that he needed a long time to fully absorb it. But there was no time in Chaos; he had plenty of it. No rush, no impatience, no attachment. Realizing slowly, steadily, and gently.

The oil lamp glowed before him, its wick flickering. The green lotus fragment and the axe blade fragment lay beside the lamp, one green and one gold. The three lights and the light of the Earthly Dao converged, illuminating his face. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were shining. That light was earthy yellow, yellow like the earth.

Bai Ze looked into his eyes, feeling an indescribable sensation. This scholar had walked from Heyin City to Zhongnan Mountain, from Zhongnan Mountain to the Three Mountains, Three Temples, Three Courtyards, and Three Sects, from the Three Teachings to the Primordial Secrets, from the Primordial Era to the Zixiao Discourse, from Zixiao to the fires of the Calamity, and from the Calamity to the pursuit of truth in Chaos. Every step was slow, but every step was steady. So steady that he never fell and never looked back. Because beneath his feet was the earth, and the earth supported him. He would not fall, nor would he look back.

The kitten rolled over on his shoulder and continued to sleep. It didn't care about the Earthly Dao or whatever; as long as it had a place to perch and someone to accompany it, that was enough. But it didn't know that the place it perched was Lu Mingyuan's shoulder. Lu Mingyuan's shoulder was connected to the earth. The earth supported him, and he supported the kitten. One Dao supporting another, one link connecting to the next. This was carrying; this was Great Virtue.

"Finished watching the Earthly Dao?" Bai Ze asked.

"I have."

"Do you understand it?"

"I understand a part of it. The rest, I will understand slowly over time."

"That's enough. The Dao isn't something that can be understood all at once; if you understand it, you can move forward. As you walk, you'll understand more."

Lu Mingyuan nodded. He stood up, preparing to look at the third light. This time, he didn't sit back down. Because he was ready—ready to see the Human Dao, to see that fiery red light, red like blood.