79: Chapter 79 Crossing the Tribulation in Zhongnan

Three days later.

At the hour of mao, as the sky was just beginning to brighten, Lu Mingyuan woke up.

He didn't get up immediately, but lay in bed, quietly listening to the sounds outside the window. Birds were chirping, the wind was blowing, and the branches of the old cypress tree were rustling. It was just like any other day.

But he knew it was different.

He got up and pushed open the door.

In the courtyard, Xuanweizi stood beneath the old cypress tree with his hands behind his back. Qingyuan squatted by the well, his face pale; seeing him come out, he wanted to say something but swallowed it back down.

Lu Mingyuan walked to Xuanweizi's side.

"Master."

Xuanweizi didn't turn around, only gazing at the sky.

"Look."

Lu Mingyuan looked up.

The sky was still the same sky, transparently blue. But within that blue, something was surging. Like an undercurrent beneath the water, invisible and intangible, yet palpable.

"It's coming."

Just as Xuanweizi's voice fell, the sky changed.

First, it went dark.

There were no dark clouds, no sun being blocked, the sky just darkened like that. It wasn't nightfall; the sky had simply lost its color. Blue faded into gray, gray faded into white, and white faded into nothingness.

Then, there was silence.

All sounds vanished. The birds stopped chirping, the wind was blowing no more, and the branches of the old cypress tree remained motionless. The entire world seemed to have been put on pause.

Lu Mingyuan stood in the courtyard, unmoving.

He knew this wasn't true silence. It was his hearing that had been shielded by something.

Suddenly, a flash of light.

That light descended from the Nine Heavens, glowing purple and blindingly bright. It didn't strike down but hung in mid-air like a giant eye, looking down upon all living beings.

Zixiao Divine Thunder.

Lu Mingyuan took a deep breath, soared into the air, and flew toward the main peak of Zhongnan Mountain.

Behind him came Xuanweizi's voice:

"Remember—what you undergo is the heart, not power."

At the summit of the main peak, there was a giant rock, flat as a platform.

Lu Mingyuan landed on the stone platform and sat cross-legged.

Above his head, that Zixiao Divine Thunder still hung. It didn't fall, just hung there, as if waiting for something.

Lu Mingyuan closed his eyes.

He knew what it was waiting for.

Waiting for his heart.

Zixiao Divine Thunder was a lightning of the heart. It didn't strike the Physical Body, only the mind and spirit. If there were ghosts in the heart, it would strike ghosts. If there were demons in the heart, it would strike demons. If there was fear in the heart, it would strike fear.

He guarded his heart, remaining motionless.

Suddenly, he "saw."

It was Heyin City.

The dilapidated city walls, the muddy streets, the shops where he had transcribed books, the stalls where he had eaten. Everything was as it was, as if he had never left.

He walked down the street, looking at everything familiar.

Suddenly, it went dark.

It wasn't nightfall; the water had come. Mountain floods surged from outside the city, turbid waves reaching the sky, swallowing everything. People screamed and ran, but were overtaken by the flood, swept away one by one.

He wanted to save them, but when he reached out his hand, it passed right through their bodies.

He couldn't save them.

He could only watch.

Watching those familiar faces being swallowed by the flood. Watching that small city turn into a vast ocean.

He stood there, his whole body trembling.

It wasn't real, he knew. It was a Heart Demon, an illusion.

But that fear was real.

He was afraid.

Afraid that he couldn't save those who should be saved.

Afraid that he would watch helplessly, powerless to do anything.

That was the deepest fear in his heart.

The flood receded, and Heyin City became a pile of ruins.

He stood among the ruins, motionless.

Suddenly, a person crawled out from the ruins.

That person was covered in mud, their face indistinguishable. He walked step by step toward Lu Mingyuan, came to his front, and looked up.

It was Wang Meng.

The man he had let go by the river. The man he thought would turn over a new leaf.

But at this moment, Wang Meng looked at him, his eyes filled with nothing but hatred.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

Lu Mingyuan was speechless.

"You released me, but I didn't change. I harmed even more people. The lives of those people are all on your hands."

Wang Meng finished speaking, then turned into a cloud of black smoke and dissipated.

Lu Mingyuan closed his eyes.

He knew it was an illusion. But within that illusion, there were real things.

Had the people he let go really all changed?

He didn't know.

He didn't dare to know.

After Wang Meng disappeared, the ruins changed again.

It turned into a village. The village wasn't large, with a few dozen households. There was a large scholar tree at the village entrance, and several children were playing under it.

He stood at the village entrance, watching those children.

Suddenly, a child ran toward him.

It was Qingyuan.

No, it wasn't Qingyuan. It was Qingyuan as a child, seven or eight years old, his face full of childish innocence.

"Junior Martial Uncle!" the child called to him, "Junior Martial Uncle, you're here!"

He squatted down, wanting to pat the child's head.

But as soon as he reached out his hand, the child collapsed.

A sword was thrust into his chest.

That sword was his qingni sword.

He looked up and saw another version of himself standing not far away. That self looked at him with a cold gaze.

"You can't save anyone."

That self said.

"You will only cause their deaths."

He looked down at Qingyuan's corpse.

That innocent face had already lost its Life Qi.

His hands were trembling.

Boom—

A bolt of lightning fell.

Zixiao Divine Thunder, the first bolt.

It struck his body, struck into his heart. Those fears, those illusions, were all shattered into pieces.

But the pieces were still there.

Those shards were stuck in his heart, causing a sharp pain.

He opened his eyes and looked at the sky.

In the sky, that Zixiao Divine Thunder still hung. But beside it, another had appeared. A golden lightning, as scorching as the sun.

Five Elements Divine Lightning. Metal Lightning.

Boom—

The second bolt fell.

The Metal Lightning struck his body like ten thousand knives cutting at once. His Physical Body began to collapse, his skin splitting open, his flesh and blood a blur.

He endured it, motionless.

But those shards were still stuck in his heart.

After the Metal Lightning came the Wood Lightning.

The green lightning was like countless vines entangling him. Those vines tightened into his wounds, tightened into his bones, strangling him until he couldn't breathe.

Then came the Water Lightning.

The black lightning was as cold as Nine Nether Cold Ice. It poured down from his head, freezing his blood, freezing his Meridians, freezing his Primordial Spirit.

Then came the Fire Lightning.

The red lightning was as hot as the core's magma. It scorched his Physical Body, scorched his mind and spirit, scorched his everything.

Then came the Earth Lightning.

The yellow lightning was as heavy as a ten-thousand-ton mountain. It pressed down on him, making it impossible for him to straighten his back, making him unable to breathe, making him want to kneel.

Five divine lightnings, one after another.

His Physical Body was already riddled with holes.

But he didn't move.

Nor did he kneel.

When the Five Elements lightning ended, heaven and earth went silent again.

Lu Mingyuan knelt on the stone platform, covered in blood. His Physical Body was already in tatters; in some places bone could be seen, in others there was only charred blackness.

But he was still there.

Still sitting.

Not falling.

He raised his head and looked at the sky.

In the sky, those two types of lightning were still there. The Zixiao Divine Thunder and the Five Elements lightning had scattered, but they hadn't disappeared; instead, they were in Fusion.

Purple and gold, green, black, red, yellow—six colors merging together.

Merging into a ball of Chaos.

Chaos Divine Thunder.

That was the lightning from when the world was first created. It was the lightning transformed from the axe strike with which Pangu split the Chaos.

He looked at that ball of Chaos and suddenly smiled.

So that's how it is.

His Dao is the Xuan-shu Path, his technique is the Wanxiang True Qi, and his path is the melting of the Three Religions and Nine Schools into one furnace. Therefore, his final tribulation is the Chaos Divine Thunder.

All methods return to the source, returning to Chaos.

Cross it, and it is a new life.

Fail to cross it, and it is a return to Chaos.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

In his Dantian, that mass of Wanxiang True Qi moved. It rose from the Dantian, flowing through his whole body, into every wound, into every inch of charred flesh.

It was repairing his Physical Body.

And also preparing to meet the final strike.

The Chaos Divine Thunder fell.

There was no sound, no light, nothing that could be perceived. There was only Chaos.

Pure Chaos.

It fell upon his body, fell into his heart.

In that instant, he "saw" everything, yet saw nothing at all.

He saw the creation of the world, saw Pangu swinging his axe, saw the Three Thousand Demon Gods fall.

He saw Vicious Beasts, saw the King of Chaos swallowing heaven and earth, saw the Three Tribes fighting a bloody battle.

He saw the Dragon and Phoenix, saw Luo Hou instigating conflict, saw the thirty-thousand-year war.

He saw the Witch and Demon, saw the zhou heavens shattered, saw Hou Tu transform into Reincarnation.

He saw the Investiture of the Gods, saw the struggle between Chan and Jie, saw countless Cultivators placed on the list.

He saw the Journey to the West, saw the path of the pilgrimage, saw the diversion of Luck.

He saw the Dharma Ending Age, saw the blood-colored Rift, saw An surging from beyond the heavens.

The Seven Great Calamities, countless living beings, were all within that Chaos.

And himself.

The cold window of Heyin City, the Bai Ze entering his dream in the ancient temple, the talismans of Longhu Mountain, the sword of Wudang Mountain, the intent of Mount Qingcheng, the snow of Shaolin, the bell toll of Daxiangguo Temple, the Sanskrit chanting of the Leiyin Ruins, the sound of reading in Yuelu, the osmanthus flowers of the White Deer Grotto, the misty rain of Junshan Mountain, the hidden weapons of the Tang Clan, the sword discussion at Mount Hua.

And those people—Xuanweizi, Immortal Master Yu Shu, the Pavilion Keeper, Perfected Master Changkong, Zen Master Huijue, Tang Zhuo, the Sect Leader, the The Palace Guardian Taoist, Jiang Yichen, Qingyuan.

All were in the Chaos.

He looked at those things and suddenly understood.

Chaos is not destruction.

It is the return to the source.

All methods return to the source, returning to the heart. All tribulations return to the source, returning to Chaos. Chaos is not the end, it is the starting point.

Just as Pangu woke from the Chaos and split open heaven and earth.

He also woke from the Chaos and split open his own tribulation.

He opened his eyes.

The Chaos dissipated.

The sky was blue again, the birds were chirping again, the wind blew through the old cypress tree, and the branches rustled.

He was still sitting on the stone platform, covered in blood, but that blood had already dried. The wounds were healing, the charred skin was falling away, and new skin was growing.

He looked down at his hands.

His hands were still the same hands. But he knew they were different.

In his Dantian, that mass of Wanxiang True Qi had changed. It was no longer light, but a mass of Chaos. Grayish, like the way things were before the world was created.

But within that Chaos, there were all things.

There were mountains, water, the sun and moon, the stars, plants, birds and beasts, and the mundane life of the human world.

He stood up and looked at the sky.

In the sky, there was nothing left.

The Heavenly Tribulation had been crossed.

He suddenly remembered Xuanweizi's words.

"Undergoing Tribulation is about the heart, not power."

He had crossed it.

Not because his power was strong, but because his heart was firm.

Those fears, those illusions, those things he didn't dare to face—he had seen them all, acknowledged them all, and passed through them all.

From now on, there was no fear in his heart.

He turned and looked down the mountain.

The ancient temple was still there, the old cypress tree was still there, and Xuanweizi was still standing under the tree, looking at him.

He smiled.

Then, he heard a voice.

Very light, very faint, as if coming from a great distance.

It was Xuanweizi's voice:

"It is done."

He nodded and set off down the mountain.

Walking very slowly, every step very steady.

Because he knew that from this day forward, he was an Earth Immortal.