82: Chapter 82 Crimson Rift
Just as dawn broke, Zhang Qingyuan knocked on the door.
Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes and pushed the door open to go out. In the courtyard, Zhang Qingyuan had already changed into martial attire, with a short blade at his waist and that lantern in his hand—even though it was daytime, he still carried it.
"Let's go," Zhang Qingyuan said. "Early is better; that thing is quietest in the morning."
Lu Mingyuan nodded and looked back at the still-sleeping Qingyuan.
"Let him sleep. He can't go to that place," said Zhang Qingyuan.
The two left the manor, passed through the poplar forest, and headed Northwest.
The road became increasingly difficult. At first, there were small field paths, but later only wild trails hidden by overgrown grass remained. Eventually, even the wild trails disappeared, leaving only jagged rocks and thorns.
Zhang Qingyuan walked in front, carrying the lantern, his steps steady. The flame inside the lantern flickered, dimming and brightening, but never going out.
After walking about twenty li, Lu Mingyuan suddenly stopped.
He smelled an aura.
The scent was faint and thin, as if something was rotting in the distance. But it wasn't the rot of flesh; it was something deeper—resentment, hatred, unwillingness, the lingering obsessions left by countless living beings after death.
Zhang Qingyuan also stopped and turned back to look at him.
"Smell that?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"Ten more li," Zhang Qingyuan said. "As we go further, this scent will grow stronger."
He paused, then added:
"The first time I came here, I vomited for three days. Later, I slowly got used to it, though I can't say if I'm used to it or just numb."
Lu Mingyuan said nothing and continued forward.
After another five li, the smell in the air was so thick it was almost tangible.
It wasn't a normal stench; it was something that burrowed straight into the heart. With every breath, it felt like inhaling the resentment of countless dead into one's lungs, weighing down on the heart.
Lu Mingyuan circulated his Wanxiang True Qi, letting the Chaos aura flow through his body to dissolve the resentment one by one.
Zhang Qingyuan didn't have his level of cultivation, yet he showed no discomfort. He simply carried the lantern, walking step by step. The flame inside the lantern flickered more frantically, but it would not go out.
"That lantern of yours..." Lu Mingyuan finally asked.
Zhang Qingyuan looked down at the lantern in his hand and smiled.
"This is my heart lamp. I've guarded this place for twenty years, relying solely on it."
Lu Mingyuan was startled, then understood.
It wasn't an ordinary lantern. It was a heart lamp ignited by Zhang Qingyuan's natal true essence. While the lamp remained, the man remained. If the lamp went out, the man would die.
He had carried this heart lamp, walking upon this land permeated with resentment, for twenty years.
"Is it worth it?" Lu Mingyuan asked.
Zhang Qingyuan thought for a moment.
"I don't know. But someone has to carry a lamp so those behind can see the road."
He continued forward.
Lu Mingyuan looked at his back and suddenly felt that this Late Stage Golden Core Loose Cultivator was loftier than many great experts.
Finally, they arrived.
Lu Mingyuan stood on a protruding boulder, gazing ahead, his whole body frozen.
What was that?
The sky... had split.
A massive Rift stretched between heaven and earth. Extending upward from a crack in the ground, it vanished into the clouds, its end nowhere in sight. The Rift was about a hundred li wide, like a giant eye staring coldly.
At the edges of The Rift, space was distorted. Light that shone in was swallowed, never to return. Deep within The Rift was endless darkness, where something surged like a living thing, yet also like a dead thing.
Billowing Devilish Qi poured from The Rift. This Devilish Qi wasn't black, but dark red, like congealed blood. It surged out from The Rift and spread in all directions; wherever it passed, plants withered and life vanished.
Within thirty li of The Rift, there was already nothing left.
No grass, no trees, no birds or beasts, not even insects. Only bare rocks remained, covered in a layer of dark red ash.
That was what remained after the Devilish Qi settled.
Lu Mingyuan watched all this and suddenly remembered what Xuanweizi had said—
"During the Dharma-Ending Kalpa, the Heavenly Dao is on the verge of collapse."
He had always thought it was a metaphor. But at this moment, he knew it wasn't. The sky really was collapsing.
Zhang Qingyuan stood beside him, holding his lantern and gazing at The Rift.
"Twenty years ago, it was only the size of a palm," he said. "Right on that rock."
He gestured with his chin toward a boulder not far away. The rock was mostly covered in dark red ash, its original appearance unrecognizable.
"At that time, I thought it would quickly disappear. But it didn't. It grew day by day, expanded year by year. In twenty years, it grew into this."
He paused, then added:
"Do you know what the most terrifying part is?"
Lu Mingyuan shook his head.
"The most terrifying part is that no one came," Zhang Qingyuan said. "For twenty years, I sent countless message talismans to the major Schools, pleading with countless people. But no one came. Some said it was a natural disaster that couldn't be stopped. Some said it was a calamity, and what was meant to come would come. Others said this was a matter of the Northwest and had nothing to do with them."
He laughed, a very bitter laugh.
"Later, I stopped pleading. I just guarded it, day by day, for as long as I could. On the day I can no longer guard it, I'll take this lamp and walk into that Rift."
Lu Mingyuan turned to look at him.
Zhang Qingyuan was also looking at him, his gaze calm.
"Now you've come. You say you're here to mend it. I don't know if you can succeed, but since you've come, I believe you."
He reached out and pointed at The Rift.
"Look closely. It's alive."
Alive?
Lu Mingyuan focused his gaze.
Deep in The Rift, within that surging darkness, something was moving. It wasn't the movement of surging Devilish Qi, but a conscious movement, like a heartbeat or the rise and fall of breath.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his Divine Sense.
As soon as his Divine Sense entered The Rift's range, it felt like sinking into a quagmire, making every step difficult. But he was an Earth Immortal after all; his Divine Sense was far stronger than that of a Golden Core. He probed forward bit by bit, going deeper and deeper.
Finally, he "saw" it.
Deep within The Rift was a mass of something. It had no shape or boundaries, but it had a "core"—an extremely tiny point, like the tip of a needle or a mustard seed, yet it condensed endless resentment.
That resentment didn't belong to one person, but to countless people. There were Yao Race Great Sages who fell during the Witch-Demon Calamity, members of the Jie Sect who died in the Investiture of the Gods Calamity, demons who died wrongly on the Journey to the West, and millions upon millions of living beings who were reduced to ashes during the calamities.
Their resentment hadn't dissipated with death. It had gathered together, twisting into a single strand, and pierced into the Heavenly Dao like a thorn.
As long as the thorn remained, the wound remained. As long as the wound remained, things would leak out from within.
The things leaking out were Devilish Qi.
Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes, his face pale.
Zhang Qingyuan looked at him.
"See it?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
"What is it?"
Lu Mingyuan was silent for a long time.
"It's resentment. Resentment accumulated over countless calamities."
Zhang Qingyuan also fell silent.
The two stood on the boulder, gazing at The Rift and the billowing Devilish Qi for a long, long time.
Suddenly, a low moan came from deep within The Rift.
The sound was extremely low, almost inaudible, but upon entering the ear, it felt like a knife scraping against the heart. It wasn't pain, but coldness, emptiness, a feeling that nothing mattered anymore and everything should be destroyed.
The flame in the lantern in Zhang Qingyuan's hand suddenly shrank, nearly going out. He hurried to cup it with both hands, protecting it with true essence, before the flame slowly reignited.
Lu Mingyuan didn't move. He just stared deep into The Rift, at the surging darkness.
The low moan grew louder and closer. Things began to emerge from The Rift.
At first, it was mist—dark red mist, thicker and denser than Devilish Qi. Within the mist, things were taking shape—heads, bodies, limbs, one twisted humanoid figure after another.
Those things walked out of the mist, landed on the ground, and looked around. Their eyes were empty, with no pupils, only two black holes. Yet those two black holes stared directly toward where Lu Mingyuan was.
"Demon Puppets," Zhang Qingyuan whispered. "They can sense the aura of living things."
Before his voice had even faded, those things were already charging this way. They didn't run fast, but every step they took on the ground left a dark red footprint. Within the footprints, something was squirming.
Lu Mingyuan raised his hand, and a Talisman flew out, exploding in mid-air and transforming into a screen of light.
Those things crashed into the light screen, letting out shrill screams as they dissolved into pools of dark red pus. But the things behind them showed no fear, stepping over their companions' pus to continue charging forward.
One, two, ten, a hundred.
More and more.
The light screen began to tremble.
Zhang Qingyuan held his lantern and stood beside Lu Mingyuan, his expression grave.
"Let's go," he said. "There are too many; we can't kill them all."
Lu Mingyuan looked at the swarming things, at the massive Rift behind them, and at the boundless darkness deep within The Rift.
Then, he turned around.
"Go."
The two sprinted back the way they had come.
Behind them, those things pursued for a while, but upon reaching the end of the light screen, they suddenly stopped, as if held back by some invisible thread, unable to take another step forward.
They stood at the edge of the light screen, watching Lu Mingyuan's receding back, and something seemed to flicker within their hollow eyes.
But it was only for an instant before returning to emptiness.
After running for thirty li, the aura of those things finally disappeared.
Lu Mingyuan stopped and looked back.
In the distance, The Rift was still there, its dark red glow faintly visible on the horizon. It was even brighter than when they had arrived.
Zhang Qingyuan also stopped, cupping his lantern and panting heavily. The flame inside the lantern had become so weak it looked like it could go out at any moment.
He looked up at Lu Mingyuan.
"Did you see it?"
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
He had seen it.
He had seen The Rift, the Devilish Qi, the Demon Puppets, and the mass of resentment deep within The Rift.
He had also seen that fleeting thing in the hollow eyes of those Demon Puppets.
It wasn't pure evil.
It was—deficiency.
Lacking something, thus they were mad. Lacking something, thus they devoured. Lacking something, thus they became like this.
He suddenly remembered Xuanweizi's words:
"Demons are not external enemies, but shadows of the Heavenly Dao's deficiency."
Shadows of deficiency.
Not enemies, but shadows.
But how do you fight a shadow? If you hit a shadow, the shadow won't feel pain, but you will grow tired. The more you fight, the stronger it becomes, because every punch you throw is feeding strength to the shadow.
Lu Mingyuan stood there, gazing at the red light on the horizon, truly understanding the meaning of those words for the first time.
Zhang Qingyuan watched him without interrupting.
After a long time, Lu Mingyuan withdrew his gaze.
"Let's go back."
Zhang Qingyuan nodded.
The two turned and walked toward the manor.
After a few steps, Lu Mingyuan suddenly asked:
"Old Zhang, tell me, how do you mend what is missing?"
Zhang Qingyuan thought for a bit.
"I don't know. But I know that someone has to go and mend it."
Lu Mingyuan smiled.
"Yeah. Someone has to go and mend it."
The two continued forward.
Behind them, the red light on the horizon grew brighter and brighter.
But the lantern in their hands was also lit.
Though weak, it remained lit.