Chapter 1142: Every Day Is the Lantern Festival

Chapter 1142: Every Day Is the Lantern Festival

Chen Ping'an in the Bright World, Fallen Mountain in the Vase Continent, had unintentionally become a place of military contention. Like those so-called vital hubs of the world, those grand cities and towns, no matter how great the momentum, they could not bypass it. To know the answer to the riddle, one must ask this mountain and this person. The Old Scholar was both worried and anxious. He sniffed lightly, as if opening a book of military strategy, smelling a thick scent of gunpowder. What to do?

Since the matter was serious, Xiao Mo and Xie Dog immediately rushed to the courtyard and heard the Old Scholar whisper, "Xianyang, remember, don't act rashly."

Liu Xianyang deliberately put on a straight face and said, "Don't worry, the axemen are all waiting for the signal of a smashed cup before they start chopping heads."

Xie Dog admired Liu Xianyang's composure; that guy really was broad-minded and not easily shaken.

Jiang She came as he pleased, and their own mountain master struck as he pleased—neither were courteous people. Showing up empty-handed was already unwelcome, but instead of taking the opportunity to claim kinship, they behaved like debt collectors. What a mess. How would this end? Xie Dog was filled with pent-up anger and couldn't help glancing sideways at Wu Yan, who responded with an apologetic smile to her friend, indicating she was sorry for implicating her companion.

The Old Scholar laughed silently, patted Liu Xianyang's arm, and said, "Don't always feel like you owe Chen Ping'an anything."

In a private courtyard of the acting city lord of Lingxi City, the female cultivator Wu Yan was in the most awkward position. When she first boarded the ship, she might have been considered half an outsider, but now she was half an enemy. The woman looked at Pei Qian several times, but it was one-sided; she received no response from that side. However, being able to see Pei Qian a few more times was already enough for Wu Yan. Pei Qian was not the kind of woman who struck one with her beauty at first glance. She had her hair in a topknot, revealing a high forehead, slender eyes and brows, and a cold, aloof demeanor. Even when confronted with such an unexpected turn of events, Pei Qian's eyes remained resolute, without any sign of dejection or loss.

In Wu Yan's eyes, such an exceptional woman was not just for this century or for the Bright World, but in all of history, she was a tree that stands out in the forest. The more Pei Qian showed such "accomplishment," the more guilty Wu Yan felt. Standing face to face, she had no words.

Liu Xianyang was silent for a moment, then said, "Master Xun might have misunderstood. When it comes to being stabbed in the back for a friend, risking life and limb, Chen Ping'an can do it, and of course I can do it too. So I don't feel like I owe Chen Ping'an anything, no need for that. Having a reckless friend like me, that's Chen Ping'an's bad luck. Liu Xianyang knows how to say the right things, do the right things, and how to get along with friends, I always have, and I haven't changed. But over the years, whenever I think about how he used to go around begging—begging the pharmacy owner Shopkeeper Yang to save someone, begging neighbor Wang Zhu for locust leaves, begging Supervisor Song Changjing for justice—my heart aches."

The Old Scholar hummed in agreement, raised his arm and made a fist. With a dazed expression, he lightly tapped his heart and said, "I feel the same pain. For example, it was only much later that I learned that such a proud student of mine, just to help me sell a few dozen more books, would bow his head and toast to people at the dinner table. Every time I think about it, my heart aches."

During those bleak years when he wore and changed straw sandals, Liu Xianyang's existence was to Chen Ping'an of Mud Vase Alley like living in the bitter cold of deep winter. Even though the sky was overcast and the future could not be clearly seen, he still understood in his heart that there was sun in the sky.

Not only Chen Ping'an, but many people with similar origins and similar bleak lives, like walking a long time in a narrow, dark alley, occasionally looking up at the sky, would always see a ray of light, like a way out.

Liu Xianyang asked directly, "What exactly is Jiang She thinking?" After all, he was not like Xiao Mo or Bai Jing, those ancient Daoists who personally wrote the old almanac. The character of a person could only be determined after personal experience. Honestly, if he truly wanted to claim kinship with Pei Qian, why would he deliberately make an enemy of Chen Ping'an?

The Old Scholar looked troubled and said, "If you ask why people do good deeds, in the end, it's always one kind of thought. If you ask why they are unreasonable, the branches and leaves are numerous, and there are a thousand reasons." Even though Jiang She's Dao partner was present, Xiao Mo spoke rather bluntly, "Easy to guess. Jiang She just values the title of the First Ancestor of the Military School very highly and regards Pei Qian very lightly."

This was because Pei Qian was present; Xiao Mo couldn't bear to speak harshly. In ancient times, cultivators had firm aspirations and pure Dao hearts, which were not exaggerations. They were not troubled by the distinctions of good and evil, right and wrong like later generations. Whether it was the Buddhist practice of subduing the heart-monkey and taming the mind-horse, or the Daoist method of slaying the Three Corpses, or the cultivators' general term "heart demon"—all were great thieves on the path of cultivation, "mountain bandits" on the journey to immortality. Since Pei Qian was the only remaining pure "evil thought" from the life of Jiang She's only daughter, she was inevitably the key to achieving the Dao in this life. One must make a decisive cut and not be hesitant in one's mind. The great thief is one's own heart; the Dao thief is within oneself.

"After waiting so long for the Three Teachings' patriarchs to scatter their Dao, Jiang She took it for granted that there was an opportunity to be seized. He wanted to perform another great feat of separating heaven and earth, to write a preface for a new chapter, always thinking that if not him, who else? If he killed our lord, announced it to the world immediately, like capturing the enemy general and taking his flag on the battlefield, then Jiang She would gain prestige, making it convenient for him to gather troops and horses and, with one single blow, overthrow the old world." At this point, Xiao Mo sneered, "That Jiang She, this Military School. After ten thousand years, still the same."

Wu Yan wanted to speak but stopped herself. She was still afraid of adding fuel to the fire.

Xiao Mo said, "But we have to admit that throughout history, those who can accomplish great things are often ambitious and ruthless figures like Jiang She, who are best at killing heroes."

The Old Scholar deliberately changed the subject and laughed, "Generally speaking, in desperate situations, there might be one or two who willingly follow you to death. I dare not hope for more. But this student of mine has all of you willing to exert yourselves to the death for him, regardless of the cost. This shows that his actions are just and his character is commendable. Having such a final disciple, as his teacher, I have good eyesight and I am proud."

The Old Scholar muttered to himself as he began to pace in the courtyard, occasionally stretching his arms and twisting his neck, like an elderly person who had retired and returned to his hometown, walking slowly. On a whim, he said, "Since there's no use in rushing, how about a game of chess? Any masters here? Help me get a good omen. Ha, 'A guest asked about the situation on the Huai River,' and the answer was, 'The younger generation has defeated the bandits.' How wonderful, isn't it?"

Unfortunately, no one agreed to play a game of chess with the Old Scholar. Xie Dog saw the awkward silence; she hated such awkward situations where conversation dried up. So she volunteered, "I'll play, I'll play!" The Old Scholar thought for a moment, looked at the eager girl in a mink hat, guessed that she was probably a poor player who liked to say "Let me take back that move," and waved his hand, saying, "Never mind, never mind. Chess is too taxing on the mind; I won't waste the effort."

The Old Scholar tugged at his beard and pondered for a long time, then said out of nowhere, "The Dao De Jing, five thousand words, says that the Way of Heaven reduces the surplus to make up for the deficiency. But the way of humans reduces the deficiency to serve the surplus. Only those who possess the Dao can use their surplus to serve the world."

Liu Xianyang nodded and said, "This is the basis for the current saying of 'offerings' among the heavenly immortals." Born of heaven and raised by earth, this is supply. When one ascends the mountain to cultivate the Dao, one must repay. This kind of debt repayment is a matter of course.

The Old Scholar said sadly, "In the mortal world, those with surplus have too much idle surplus, while those without have no space to stand. The smallest number of people possess the most things, like having a heavy head and light feet, like a person falling ill, disoriented. But the operation of the great Dao never stops, so there must be a change in heaven, and there will be many omens and strange phenomena. The land of the aristocratic families at the foot of the mountain, the ownership of mountain and river spiritual energy, the secular gold and silver treasures, the immortal's money on the mountains, etc., all must be scattered and rearranged. Hence the Three Teachings' patriarchs scattered their Dao, trying to bring peace to heaven and earth, to harmonize yin and yang. Everything is difficult at the start. They wanted to conclude an old book that had been written for ten thousand years, and then open a good beginning for a new chapter of the mortal world, writing a pretty good prologue."

Wu Yan finally spoke, and her words carried heavy weight: "What is even more needed is for someone to act on behalf of heaven." In those days, Zhou Mi of the Wilderness had such intentions, and now Zhang Fenghai of the Azure Underworld must also think the same way. Their methods differ, their paths are different, but their great ambitions are identical.

Liu Xianyang found a place, leaned back against a corridor pillar, crossed his arms, and began to rest with his eyes closed.

Xie Dog hesitated and then said a fair comment that slightly boosted the enemy's morale and diminished their own: "No matter what, Jiang She is the fourth person after the Battle of Ascending to Heaven and before the Combined Severance and Liberation." Jiang She was, after all, the acknowledged fourth person among all ancient cultivators of the mortal world. So her implication was very simple: Jiang She, this ancestral master of the Military School, was truly powerful. Mountain Lord, you must be careful. There is no need to seek victory; surviving is winning. If Jiang She's Dao conduct were weak, would the Dao Ancestor have personally descended back then? He had to engage Jiang She in single combat. Sword cultivator Bai Jing always thought highly of herself, but she didn't consider herself qualified to compete with the Dao Ancestor. She had no such thoughts at all.

Xie Dog repeatedly hinted with her eyes: Old Scholar, why don't you just bring out Little Master again? One trouble is trouble, owing favors twice is still owing. We people of the jianghu only care about swift revenge and gratitude; why care too much about saving face?

But the Old Scholar seemed not to notice Xie Dog's hint. He only subconsciously straightened his collar and said to himself, "The most admirable and respectable thing is, before ascending to heaven back then, those martyrs, those sages, those Daoists and scholars, they never thought they would survive. They didn't care at all whether later generations would remember their names or their Daoist titles. The most critical point is, they never thought they could win!"

He paused for a moment, then looked at the girl in the mink hat and asked with a smile, "Miss Xie, as the first woman to ascend to the Heavenly Court back then, after sheathing your sword, what were you thinking?"

Xie Dog grinned and said, "Simple thought, just four words: 'Did we really win?' At that time, Bai Jing was covered in blood, her robe soaked through with two colors of blood, both scarlet and gold. The exhausted woman, with drooping eyelids, her second thought was, 'This old lady must sleep her fill this time and not bother with anything else.'"

The Old Scholar continued, "How many ancient heroes had already attained Earth Immortal status. Their identities and situations are like the current mountain and river gods, who have been enshrined by heaven, earth, the Confucian Temple, and the imperial court, and have obtained a liberated body no longer suppressed by the Heavenly Dao. Yet they still give up their lives and fear not death, acting only with magnanimity."

"Why?"

"To tread a broad road for all sentient beings of later generations."

"This road is called freedom."

Hearing this, Wu Yan's eyes were exceptionally bright. Even though she was in an adversarial position, she sincerely admired the Old Scholar's breadth of mind and magnanimity. Those who are my enemies are not all petty people. They may have flaws, omissions, and mistakes, but they can still be "great persons" with their own magnanimity, vision, and actions. This stooped old man before her, seemingly not very old, if he had lived in those stirring times, would surely have fought alongside them, and would surely have performed feats of great youthful boldness.

Wu Yan thought briefly and then asked a question she had already prepared in her mind: "May I ask the Literary Sage, the Dao Ancestor speaks of Dao and Virtue, the Supreme Sage of Confucianism speaks of benevolence, Little Master speaks of ritual, the Second Sage speaks of righteousness, Yu Dou adheres to rules, and Mountain Lord Chen painfully pursues the faultless. The roots of each's learning—are they not fundamentally utilitarian?" The woman had no hint of aggressiveness; it was more like a sincere request for instruction, even a humble inquiry.

The Old Scholar said, "To truly clarify this matter, you would have to ask my first disciple. To explain a great principle well, it is not just in a few calm words or dozens of sentences, but in the thousands of things that test patience. If you cannot bear the trouble, you cannot explain the principle well." The Old Scholar smiled, "Whether you call it utilitarianism or practical achievement, it is nothing more than, under the premise of not harming personal interests, tirelessly seeking the greatest public benefit for all living beings. This is the Heavenly Mind, close to the Dao itself. If one principle is not understood, then all principles are obscured."

The Old Scholar continued slowly: "The great affairs of the state are sacrifice and war. The Three Teachings and the Military School are one family. It has never been that the Three Teachings underestimate the Military School; rather, they both respect and fear the Legalist School within it. To say take the world by force, of course you cannot do without the Military School. In chaotic times, among the Hundred Schools, anyone missing could be managed, but you cannot lack the Military School. Although I am a scholar who likes to flaunt flowery phrases, I dare to acknowledge this truth. Donning armor and holding sharp weapons, punching open heaven and earth, cutting down thorns and brambles, to break open a road to survival for a gloomy, stagnant, blocked, and walled-in dark age, one must turn the chaotic era where life is as cheap as grass into a peaceful age where people talk about mulberry and hemp. If the Military School is not formidable, who dares say they are? But when the overall situation is settled, the emperor sits on the throne, and the civil and military officials guard the world—how easy has it ever been? No matter how many laws you set up and how many people you punish, it is never enough, far from enough. Fellow Daoist Wu Yan, do you know the fundamental reason why the Military School finds it very difficult to establish a teaching and claim patriarch status? In contrast, the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism have been much smoother? It is absolutely not as simple as Jiang She's 'rebellious intentions' back then, which caused a great mistake and led to the Military School losing this easily attainable title. You can certainly say that in later generations, too many disciples of the Three Teachings have misread intentions, misinterpreted scriptures, and cultivated deviating methods. But you should be clear about one fact: the Supreme Sage, the Dao Ancestor, and the Buddha—they all possess magnanimity, breadth of mind, vision, and both Dao and technique. They are not petty enough to deliberately target your Military School. You could also say that one day, with the talent and methods of your Dao partner Jiang She, if the Military School truly becomes supreme, dominates alone, unifies the mortal world, you can let the Three Teachings and the Hundred Schools' doctrines serve as supplements and repair human hearts and the world together—it's just about deciding which is primary, so why not? Is it just because you, Old Scholar, sit in the Confucian Temple and have favoritism, so you pull biases? No. In my opinion, if we trace back to the root, it lies in the fact that the three teachings' core principles, though different paths, reach the same goal. Their fundamental learning is all about how to suppress desires: caution in solitude, few desires, guarding the heart, and so on."

"Military strategy and law, the Military School and the Legalist School are inseparable. The Military School too much goes along with the desires of the human heart, blindly fanning the flames, good at guiding the situation, stirring people's hearts. An army of tigers and wolves, clanging armor, momentum like a flood. Taking enemy generals, capturing flags, counting heads for merits, winning hundreds of battles, everywhere invincible, breaking battle formations, destroying states, everyone wants to achieve unprecedented merits. Relying solely on the Legalist School to control the flood is like blocking but not channeling. Once the rough and frivolous heart is aroused, it becomes even harder to suppress desires."

Wu Yan was completely surprised; this was the first time someone had explained this principle to her. Pei Qian wanted to speak but stopped. Liu Xianyang gently shook his head, indicating that she didn't need to say anything, and to leave it be.

The Old Scholar said self-deprecatingly, "So I don't distrust your Military School; in the final analysis, I distrust human nature and desires. The flood is surging, the sea of desire is rolling, the invisible water level of the world is here..." At this point, the Old Scholar extended a palm, facing downward, and placed it flat at the level of his heart, then lifted it slightly. "Since it cannot be pressed down, the water level will get higher and higher."

Liu Xianyang opened his eyes and said, "There's no avoiding it, no hiding from it. The weak will drown first."

Liu Xianyang had said, joked about, and even scolded Chen Ping'an to his face for being a "bleeding-heart" and such. Many tough things were his own doing and he had to swallow the bitter medicine like a mute. But there was one thing Liu Xianyang would not even joke about. Probably because they both came from humble beginnings, on their future life paths, they both firmly believed in doing their best to give all people like Liu Xianyang and Chen Ping'an—even just a little—light. In the streets, it was called hope; in books, it was called hope. Because treating them kindly was treating oneself kindly, treating one's own childhood and youth kindly.

What is youth? It is still believing that some principles make sense. What is old age? It is no longer believing that any principle is useful. The old saying goes that it's hard to be young again, but the world doesn't seem good enough, making many young people never experience youth.

The Old Scholar put his hands in his sleeves and murmured, "Originally, I hurried over this time to support my student. You are parents, and I am a teacher. I thought with this connection, how could we not speak openly and frankly? So I also wanted to hear your and Jiang She's current thoughts, to see if you could convince me. I was very much looking forward to it. After ten thousand years of long contemplation, does Jiang She have a better path to propose? If it is truly feasible, then we can try it. If there are doubts for now, we can talk more. Explaining principles is not fighting; we can always reach clarity through conversation."

It seemed that as he spoke more, the old man's face showed some fatigue. He stopped talking about those heartfelt paths. Thousands of words boiled down to one principle, a simple human truth. The old man looked at the woman and asked softly, "Such a good daughter, how could you bear to give her up?"

Without waiting for an answer, the thin old man looked at Pei Qian and Liu Xianyang, then at Xiao Mo and Miss Xie. He took his hands out of his sleeves, rubbed his palms together, murmured softly, his brows and eyes gradually becoming gentle. He slowly raised his head to look into the distance, as if all the spring breezes and warm lights that had been saved year after year were brought forth to use at this moment.

The Great Dao is the lofty azure sky, is the thick yellow earth, is the means for people to cross the bitter sea. I have a wisp of incense of the heart; I am not afraid if heaven knows, earth knows, or men know.

I have no great skills; I only teach and educate. The Old Scholar is not poor; he has a good life. He is not sour; he is patient in speaking with anyone.

Thank you, everyone, for loving me because of love for my students. The Old Scholar is extremely grateful.

Whether it is the elders and juniors of a family, or the teachers and students within a literary lineage or Daoist tradition. If we can have a full, round moon, deep cups and full wine, a hall full of distinguished friends, lamps and fires dear to us, several generations under one roof, laughter and happy talk, what day is not the Lantern Festival?