80: Chapter 80 Earth Immortal Becomes
When Lu Mingyuan walked down the mountain, the sun had already risen to mid-sky.
The sunlight was wonderful, falling on his body with a warm glow. It was no different from before Undergoing Tribulation. But he knew that he was different.
With every step he took, he could feel the pulse of the earth. With every breath, he could feel the flow of the wind. With every glance, he could see things he couldn't see before—there was light in the dewdrops on the blades of grass, fine patterns within the light, and countless lives surging within those patterns.
Is this an Earth Immortal?
He didn't know. He simply walked, step by step, toward the ancient temple.
Reaching the foot of the mountain, he saw Xuanweizi standing under the old cypress tree from afar.
The old man still looked the same, in his greyish-white Daoist robe, with a lean face, standing with his hands behind his back. He was exactly the same as when he had gone down the mountain five years ago.
But as Lu Mingyuan looked now, he saw something different.
Beneath that greyish-white Daoist robe, there was light. It was very faint, so faint it was almost invisible. Yet that light was as vast as heaven and earth, as profound as Chaos.
He walked up to Xuanweizi and stopped.
"Master."
Xuanweizi looked at him and smiled slightly.
"How do you feel?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
"Like I've become a different person."
Xuanweizi nodded.
"Then it is correct. An Earth Immortal is someone who has become a different person."
The two of them walked into the east wing.
The tea was already brewed. It was still the same clay pot, the same two bowls of coarse tea. But this time, when Lu Mingyuan picked up the bowl, he tasted something different.
In that tea, there were the mists of Zhongnan Mountain, the rings of the old cypress tree, and Xuanweizi's decades of consistent mornings and evenings.
He put down the bowl and looked at Xuanweizi.
"Master, your Disciple has a question."
"Mhm."
"What is your Realm?"
Xuanweizi looked at him and remained silent for a moment.
Then, he smiled.
"Guess."
Lu Mingyuan thought for a long time.
Before, he couldn't see through him, only feeling that his Master was unfathomable. Now that he was an Earth Immortal, he still couldn't see through him. That could only mean one thing—
"Are you a Saint?"
Xuanweizi shook his head.
Lu Mingyuan froze.
Not a Saint? Then what?
Xuanweizi picked up the tea bowl and took a slow sip.
"This poor Daoist is Taishang."
Taishang.
These two words were like a bolt of lightning striking Lu Mingyuan's heart.
Taishang. Taishang Laojun. The head of the Three Pure Ones. The ancestor of Daoism.
He stared blankly at Xuanweizi, speechless.
Xuanweizi put down the tea bowl and looked at him.
"Scared?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded, then shook his head.
"Disciple... Disciple..."
Xuanweizi smiled.
"Disciple what? It's been five years, are you still not used to it?"
Lu Mingyuan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
Five years.
For five years, the person he had called Master for five years was actually Taishang Laojun?
He thought back to those days—Xuanweizi sweeping the floor, Xuanweizi brewing tea, Xuanweizi preaching the Dao, Xuanweizi seeing him off down the mountain, Xuanweizi waiting for him to return.
Those days as plain as water, those routines as trivial as dust—he had actually spent them with the head of the Three Pure Ones?
"Master," he asked, "why did you..."
"Why did I take you as a Disciple?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
Xuanweizi looked at him, his gaze gentle.
"Because you have light."
Light.
Light again.
"That night, in that broken Daoist temple, facing a tattered copy of the classic of mountains and seas, there was light in your eyes," Xuanweizi said slowly. "This poor Daoist has watched for countless years and seen countless people. Those with talent, those with Opportunity, those with background. But those with light are few."
He paused, then added:
"Where there is light, there is love. Where there is love, one can protect. Where one can protect, one can mend. What this poor Daoist has been waiting for is someone with light."
Lu Mingyuan fell silent.
He remembered that night. The flood was coming, he took shelter in the temple and met Xuanweizi. At that time, he didn't know that this ordinary old man would change his life.
"Master," he asked, "how many years have you been waiting?"
Xuanweizi thought for a moment.
"I can't remember clearly. I've been waiting since after the Investiture of the Gods."
Lu Mingyuan's heart jolted.
After the Investiture of the Gods? How many years ago was that?
"Three thousand years? Or five thousand?"
Xuanweizi shook his head.
"More than that. After the Investiture of the Gods came the Journey to the West. After the Journey to the West, countless more years passed. This poor Daoist waited so long I almost forgot what I was waiting for."
He looked at Lu Mingyuan, his gaze holding something—was it relief, sentimentality, or something else?
"Until I saw you."
Lu Mingyuan was silent.
He suddenly felt very light, yet very heavy.
Light, because he was just a minor Cultivator born as a Mortal—how could he be worthy of Taishang Laojun waiting all those years?
Heavy, because the burden on his shoulders was much heavier than he had thought.
"Master," he asked, "can your Disciple do a good job?"
Xuanweizi looked at him.
"What do you think?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a long time.
"Disciple doesn't know. But Disciple will do it."
Xuanweizi nodded.
"That is enough."
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, the shadow of the old cypress tree fell on the ground, mottled and blurred.
"You have already attained Earth Immortal status; you know what needs to be known and have prepared what needs to be prepared. Now, it is time to leave."
Lu Mingyuan stood up and walked to his side.
"Where to?"
Xuanweizi gazed toward the Northwest.
"Northwest. The Rift."
He paused, then added:
"Someone is waiting for you there."
Someone is waiting for him?
"Who?"
Xuanweizi did not answer directly.
"You will know when you get there."
Lu Mingyuan was silent.
He suddenly remembered that red light, the surging Devilish Qi, and the things Xuanweizi had said—Gloom, Resentment, Mending the Heavens, the Person of Destiny.
What was meant to come has finally arrived.
"Master," he asked, "when should Disciple leave?"
Xuanweizi thought for a moment.
"Tomorrow. Today, take a good rest."
He turned around and looked at Lu Mingyuan.
"Once you go, I don't know when you will return. Whatever you wish to do, do it today."
Lu Mingyuan thought for a long time.
Then, he smiled.
"Disciple wants to drink tea with Master."
Xuanweizi was taken aback, then he also smiled.
"Very well. Let's drink tea."
The two of them returned to the low table and sat down again.
The tea had gone cold, but no one moved to add more. They just drank the cold tea, sip by sip, slowly.
Neither spoke.
But nothing needed to be said.
In the evening, Qingyuan returned from outside.
As soon as he entered the door, he froze.
Lu Mingyuan sat under the old cypress tree in the courtyard, eyes closed as if resting. But it didn't seem like resting, because he was smiling.
He smiled very lightly, very faintly, like a spring breeze brushing over the water's surface.
"Junior Martial Uncle?" Qingyuan walked over cautiously. "You... you succeeded in Undergoing Tribulation?"
Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes and looked at him.
"Mhm."
Qingyuan's eyes lit up, and he almost jumped. "That's great! That's great! Disciple knew you could do it! The way you walk, you don't look like someone who would stop!"
Lu Mingyuan laughed.
"You've said that three times already."
Qingyuan scratched his head and chuckled.
After laughing, he suddenly remembered something and asked in a lowered voice:
"Junior Martial Uncle, what does it feel like to be an Earth Immortal?"
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
"The same as before, yet different from before."
Qingyuan didn't understand.
Lu Mingyuan looked at him and suddenly asked:
"Qingyuan, do you want to go to the Northwest?"
Qingyuan was stunned.
"North... Northwest? You mean where The Rift is?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
Qingyuan's expression shifted several times before he finally gritted his teeth.
"If Junior Martial Uncle goes, Disciple goes."
Lu Mingyuan looked at him, his gaze holding something—was it relief, or something else?
"Not afraid?"
Qingyuan puffed out his chest.
"I am! But Junior Martial Uncle said, fear is fear, but the path that must be taken still has to be walked."
Lu Mingyuan smiled.
"Good. Tomorrow, we leave together."
Night deepened.
Lu Mingyuan sat in his room, watching the moonlight outside the window.
The moonlight was very bright, bright like water, flowing over the old cypress tree, over the old well, and over the half-closed temple door.
Looking at those familiar things, he suddenly felt a sense of reluctance.
Five years.
For five years, he had lived here, cultivated here, and gained enlightenment here. Every plant and tree, every brick and tile here was etched into his heart.
Tomorrow, he would leave.
He didn't know when he could return. Maybe in a year, maybe ten, maybe... never.
But he wasn't afraid.
Because this place would always be here.
He stood up, pushed open the door, and walked into the courtyard.
Under the moonlight, the shadow of the old cypress tree stretched long. He walked to the tree and reached out to touch the rough bark.
On the bark were the marks he had carved over the past five years. Those marks were shallow and faint, but he knew they were there.
Just like his path.
Very shallow, very faint, but he was walking it.
He stood there for a long time.
Then, he turned and went back inside.
Lying on the bed, he closed his eyes.
Sleep.
Tomorrow, there was still a journey to make.
The next morning, Lu Mingyuan pushed open his door.
In the courtyard, Xuanweizi was already standing under the old cypress tree. Qingyuan stood by the well with a bundle on his back, his face full of excitement and nervousness.
Lu Mingyuan walked up to Xuanweizi, knelt down, and kowtowed three times.
Xuanweizi did not stop him, only looking down at him.
After kowtowing, Lu Mingyuan stood up.
"Master, Disciple is leaving."
Xuanweizi nodded.
"Go."
Lu Mingyuan turned and walked toward the mountain gate.
After a few steps, he suddenly stopped.
He looked back at Xuanweizi.
In the morning light, the old man stood under the old cypress tree, his greyish-white Daoist robe fluttering slightly. His gaze was calm as water and deep as the sky.
Lu Mingyuan suddenly wanted to ask a question.
"Master, can your Disciple still return?"
Xuanweizi looked at him and smiled slightly.
"The path is beneath your feet, the heart is in the present. If you want to return, then return."
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
Then, he turned and strode toward the mountain gate.
Qingyuan quickly followed.
The two of them walked out of the mountain gate and down the stone steps toward the foot of the mountain.
After walking a long distance, Lu Mingyuan looked back.
The ancient temple was still there. The old cypress tree was still there. Xuanweizi was still standing under the tree, watching them.
He smiled and continued forward.
The morning light fell on his body, warm.
Ahead, in the Northwest direction, that red light was still there.
He knew someone was waiting for him there.
He also knew that on this journey, the road would be long.
But he wasn't afraid.
Because the path is beneath his feet, and his heart is in the present.
He was walking.
Always walking.