91: Chapter 91 Farewell to Kunlun
After returning from the edge of the cliff, Lu Mingyuan did not go back to that small courtyard.
He stood at the edge of the ruins, looking at the nine-layered high platform in the distance, the Black Water Lake behind it, and the open space further away where the copy of the investiture of the gods was placed. The morning light filtered through the cracks in the Void Realm, dyeing these broken buildings in a strange hue—appearing both golden and blood-red at the same time.
Yunhua stood three paces behind him, holding a palace lantern.
Zhang Qingyuan stood on the other side, cradling the heart lamp in his arms, remaining silent.
After a long time, Lu Mingyuan spoke.
“Miss Yunhua, will Her Ladyship... ever return?”
Yunhua shook her head.
“I don't know. Her Ladyship never tells us what she plans to do.”
She paused, then added:
“But I do know one thing.”
Lu Mingyuan turned to look at her.
“What is it?”
Yunhua gazed toward the cliff, her expression calm.
“Her Ladyship stood guard for tens of thousands of years, not so that people could see her off. It was so that someone would take what was in her hands.”
She looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“Have you taken it?”
Lu Mingyuan fell silent.
He remembered the Queen Mother of the West's final words—'Walk on, walk until the day it is mended.'
He nodded.
“I have taken it.”
Yunhua smiled. It was the first time she had smiled; it was a faint smile, yet it softened her cold features considerably.
“That is good.”
She turned and walked toward the peach forest.
“Let's go, I will see you out.”
They passed through the ruins, through the stone gates, across the wasteland, past the Black Water Lake, and by the nine-layered high platform.
At every place they passed, Lu Mingyuan would stop and take a few extra looks.
Those broken stone pillars, those fractured inscriptions, those empty high platforms—they had stood here in silence for tens of thousands of years, witnessing countless histories and bearing countless secrets.
But their Master was no longer there.
Zhang Qingyuan walked beside him and asked softly:
“Master, what are you thinking about?”
Lu Mingyuan did not answer.
He thought of what the Queen Mother of the West had said—'If I do not stand guard, those who died would have died in vain.'
He thought of that red light.
He thought of that sentence—'The one who mends the flaw must be one from within the flaw.'
He thought of the answer he himself was missing.
“I was thinking,” he finally spoke, “whether those who died really died in vain.”
Zhang Qingyuan was startled.
“What do you mean?”
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
“Those Fiendgods who fell during the Heaven-Opening Great Tribulation, those ancestors of the three races who died in the Ferocious Beast Great Tribulation, those Dragons, Phoenixes, and Qilins who turned to ash during the Dragon-Han First Calamity, those Yao and Magi whose souls flew away and spirits scattered during the Witch-Demon War, those righteous gods who left their names on the investiture of the gods, those monsters beaten to death on the journey to the west—”
He paused.
“They died, and then what?”
Zhang Qingyuan was silent.
Lu Mingyuan gazed into the distance and said softly:
“Their resentment became the Gloom. Their absence became the Calamity. Their deaths did not make the world better; instead, they left the world more flawed.”
“So, did they die in vain?”
Zhang Qingyuan thought for a long time.
“But Master,” he said, “if it weren't for them, there wouldn't be what came after.”
Lu Mingyuan looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
Zhang Qingyuan scratched his head.
“I can't quite explain it clearly. It's just... I feel that those deaths, while in vain, weren't completely in vain. Like building a house, you bury a lot of stones when laying the foundation; those stones can't be seen, but the house stands because it's built on top of them.”
He looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“Is that right?”
Lu Mingyuan was stunned.
He looked at Zhang Qingyuan for a very long time.
Then, he smiled.
“Yes. You're very right.”
He remembered the Queen Mother of the West's words—if there are no successors like you to remember those who died, then they truly died in vain.
To remember.
Not to oppose.
To remember.
He suddenly understood something.
Not an answer, but a direction.
Reaching the edge of the peach forest, Yunhua stopped.
She turned around and looked at Lu Mingyuan.
“I will leave you here.”
Lu Mingyuan looked at her and cupped his hands in a salute.
“Thank you, Miss Yunhua, for your care these past few days.”
Yunhua shook her head.
“There is no need to thank me. It was Her Ladyship who told me to care for you.”
She paused, then suddenly took out the palace lantern from her sleeve and handed it to Lu Mingyuan.
“Take this.”
Lu Mingyuan was startled.
“This is—”
“Her Ladyship left it for you,” Yunhua said. “The incense in the lamp is refined from the Living Soil of the Kunlun Ruins; it can reveal Heart Demons. You will have use for it in the future.”
Lu Mingyuan took the palace lantern, finding it warm to the touch. The incense inside burned very slowly; a thin wisp of green smoke drifted straight up, and upon reaching three feet high, it suddenly dispersed into a faint halo of light.
He looked up at Yunhua.
“Thank Her Ladyship for me.”
Yunhua nodded.
“I will. If Her Ladyship returns, I will tell her.”
She turned and walked into the depths of the peach forest.
After a few steps, she suddenly stopped without turning back.
“Lu Mingyuan—”
Lu Mingyuan looked at her.
“Yes?”
Yunhua was silent for a moment, then said softly:
“Stay alive.”
With that, she stepped into the peach forest and disappeared among the pink petals.
Lu Mingyuan stood there, gazing in the direction she had vanished for a very long time.
Zhang Qingyuan walked to his side.
“Master, Miss Yunhua... is actually quite nice.”
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
“Yes. Quite nice.”
He turned and began to walk out of the Kunlun Ruins.
Zhang Qingyuan followed behind him, carrying the heart lamp.
One after the other, they walked through the peach forest, along the small jade-paved path, and through the massive stone gate.
The stone gate slowly opened to reveal a gray sky, continuous snow-capped mountains, and the path they had come by.
Lu Mingyuan stood at the entrance and looked back once.
Inside the stone gate, the peach forest and the mist remained as they were, but he knew that the person who had guarded it for tens of thousands of years was no longer there.
He turned and stepped out of the stone gate.
Behind him, the stone gate slowly closed.
With a muffled boom, the Kunlun Ruins vanished into the Void Realm and could no longer be seen.
The path down the mountain was much easier to traverse than the path up.
There was no wind or snow, no mist, and even the Yao Beasts hiding in the shadows had disappeared without a trace.
Zhang Qingyuan kept looking back as he walked.
“Master, are the Kunlun Ruins... really gone?”
Lu Mingyuan shook his head.
“They are there. We just can't see them anymore.”
“Then can we come back in the future?”
Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.
“If Her Ladyship wants us to come, we can. If she doesn't, we will never be able to.”
Zhang Qingyuan was silent for a while, then asked again:
“Master, those things Her Ladyship said at the end—those calamities, that resentment, that thing called the Gloom—do you believe it?”
Lu Mingyuan did not answer immediately.
He looked at the road ahead, thinking of every word the Queen Mother of the West had spoken.
The Heaven-Opening Great Tribulation, the Ferocious Beast Great Tribulation, the Initial Calamity of Dragon and Phoenix, the Witch-Demon Calamity, the Investiture of the Gods Calamity, the Journey to the West Great Tribulation.
The Seven Great Calamities.
Seven accumulations.
Seven sedimentations.
Those who died, those things that were never obtained, that resentment that would not dissipate—they gathered together to become the Gloom, The Rift, and the Dharma Ending Age.
He thought of the core of resentment deep within The Rift, and the things that had flashed through those hollow eyes.
Lacking.
They were all lacking.
“I believe it,” he said.
Zhang Qingyuan looked at him.
“Why?”
Lu Mingyuan was silent for a moment, then said softly:
“Because if I don't believe it, then those who died really did die in vain.”
He paused, then added:
“But if I do believe it, then I must do something.”
Zhang Qingyuan nodded.
“Then what do we do?”
Lu Mingyuan looked ahead, his gaze calm.
“First, we go back.”
“Back?”
“Yes. Back to The Rift, to see if there have been any changes.”
He stepped forward.
“Her Ladyship didn't stand guard for tens of thousands of years just so we could leave after hearing a story. It was so that we would—keep walking.”
Zhang Qingyuan caught up.
“And after we keep walking?”
Lu Mingyuan did not answer.
Because he didn't know either.
But he knew one thing—
If you keep walking, as you walk, you will eventually find out.
After walking for a day and a night, they finally left the Kunlun Mountain range.
Standing at the foot of the mountain and looking back, the snow peaks towered majestically, shrouded in clouds and mist, showing no signs of anything unusual.
But Lu Mingyuan knew that deep within those clouds, there was a door; inside the door was a peach forest, and deep within that forest was a woman who had stood guard for tens of thousands of years.
He didn't know if she would ever return.
But he remembered her final words.
“The rest of the way, you walk yourself.”
He would walk it himself.
He turned away and did not look back again.
Zhang Qingyuan suddenly stopped.
“Master—”
Lu Mingyuan looked back.
“What is it?”
Zhang Qingyuan pointed at the distant sky.
“Look—”
Lu Mingyuan looked in the direction he was pointing.
In the sky to the Northwest, that blood-red Rift was still there.
But it seemed... to have changed.
It hadn't grown larger or smaller.
The—color had changed.
The original blood-red now had a few strands of black thread swimming within it; those threads moved through the red light as if they were alive.
Lu Mingyuan stared at those black lines, and a strong sense of unease suddenly welled up in his heart.
“Let's go.”
He said.
“To where?”
“To The Rift.”
Zhang Qingyuan was startled.
“Go there right now?”
Lu Mingyuan nodded.
“Right now.”
He stepped forward, walking very quickly.
Zhang Qingyuan carried the heart lamp and followed at a trot.
But just then—
Lu Mingyuan suddenly stopped.
He raised his head and looked toward the eastern sky.
There, an extremely faint light flashed by.
The light was very weak, almost invisible.
But Lu Mingyuan saw it.
Moreover, at the moment that light flashed, the original copy of the classic of mountains and seas in his robes suddenly grew hot.
He reached into his robes and took out the book.
The pages flipped on their own without any wind, stopping at a certain page.
On that page, a Divine Beast was drawn.
Baize.
Lu Mingyuan stared at the drawing, and a strange feeling suddenly welled up in his heart.
The Baize in the drawing seemed to be looking at him.
And the expression in those eyes—
Was a plea for help.