# 585
**Chapter 586: His Choice**
Zhou Ping’s body trembled slightly as he looked into Zuo Qing’s eyes.
Zuo Qing cleared his throat and, in Ye Fan’s tone, said slowly, “Zhou Ping, you don’t need to feel guilty, and you don’t owe me anything. The life exchange was my own decision—you bear no responsibility for it.
“After my death, Zuo Qing will keep the truth hidden. He’ll announce that I passed away naturally. No one will know you’re still alive. No one will pay attention to you. No one will force you to take on any so-called duties.
“You’ve already died once for me, for Great Xia. Now, I’m giving your life back to you. You can choose to be yourself, to live the life you want.
“In this life, you are no longer the Sword Saint of Great Xia. You don’t have to live for anyone else.
“Whether you stay at that little restaurant and work as a waiter in peace, or find a kind and gentle woman to marry and start a family—it’s up to you. You can do whatever you want…
“If one day, Great Xia truly faces an existential crisis, maybe you can help—within your power—if you’re willing.”
When Zuo Qing finished speaking, Zhou Ping lowered his head and fell into silence.
Zuo Qing said nothing more. He quietly finished his meal, leaving the bowl spotless. Then, he placed a few bills on the table and slowly stood up.
“I’ve delivered Ye Fan’s message. I won’t disturb you again. Goodbye.”
With that, Zuo Qing turned and pushed open the restaurant door, disappearing into the alley.
Zhou Ping stared at the empty plates and bowls in front of him. He didn’t get up to clean them. He just sat there, dazed.
He hadn’t expected to return like this. Even more, he hadn’t expected Ye Fan to sacrifice his own life to bring him back.
When he learned the truth from the spirits of the fallen, his mind turned to mush. He felt an indescribable pain… Sacrificing Ye Fan to bring him back wasn’t what he wanted.
But it had already happened.
Zhou Ping’s mind was in chaos.
Suddenly, the aroma of food drifted into his nose, pulling him from his tangled thoughts. He turned to see his uncle standing beside him, holding two dishes and a bowl of soup.
“Uncle…” Zhou Ping said blankly.
His uncle calmly set the dishes on the table in front of him, handed him a pair of chopsticks, and sat down across from him. Holding his old cadre-style teacup, he gently blew on the steam rising from it.
“Eat. You’ve been away so long—you must’ve missed home cooking,” he said with a smile.
Zhou Ping stared at the steaming dishes, a little dazed. He took the chopsticks and nodded lightly.
“Yeah.”
“Eat more.”
“Okay.”
He picked up some food and began eating quietly.
The familiar surroundings, the familiar person, the familiar flavors… For a moment, Zhou Ping felt like he had returned to those peaceful months from before.
“Were you tired, being away so long?” his uncle asked.
“…Yeah.”
“The outside world’s always more tiring than home,” his uncle paused. “So, are you going back?”
Zhou Ping’s chopsticks paused mid-air.
“I… don’t know,” he said bitterly.
His uncle held his teacup and looked at him for a long time, then grinned.
“Actually, I already planned out your future.
“You don’t talk much, and you’re clumsy in the kitchen. You probably won’t be able to take over this restaurant… I’ve thought it through. When I’ve saved enough money and the business starts to decline, we’ll sell the place and buy two small apartments on the outskirts—about a hundred square meters each.
“One for you to get married, one for me to retire in.
“With a home, you can work wherever you want, or even be a waiter somewhere else. We don’t need to make a lot. Xijin isn’t a big city—just enough to get by and marry a wife.
“Then I’ll find a matchmaker from our old village to find you a wife. She doesn’t have to be pretty, but she must be kind, able to take care of you, and filial. After all, I don’t have kids. When I’m old and alone, I’ll have to count on you two.
“A few years later, I’ll cook a couple of dishes at home, grab some roast chicken and beer, and come over to your place. We’ll drink, chat, and I’ll help look after the kids. Doesn’t that sound nice?
“We don’t need to get rich or rise above others. Just live a steady, peaceful life…”
As Zhou Ping ate, he imagined the future his uncle described. A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
His uncle took a sip of tea and continued:
“It’s normal for young people to feel lost when facing big decisions. You need time to think. But most importantly, you have to ask your own heart.
“Everything I just said is just my own fantasy. You’re grown now. You don’t have to be bound by my ideas. Your path is yours to choose.
“If you want to stay and live a quiet life, I can make sure no one in this city gives you trouble.
“If you want to leave and explore the world, I might not be able to help much—but if you ever get tired and come back… I’ll still have a place ready for you.”
His uncle held his teacup proudly, as if he weren’t just a small restaurant owner, but a powerful figure who ruled Xijin City.
Zhou Ping finished all the food and set down his chopsticks. For some reason, his eyes were a little wet.
He looked up at the sky outside the door, a complex look in his eyes.
His heart…
He placed his hand gently on his chest, as if asking himself: What kind of life did he truly want?
A quiet life on the outskirts, marrying and raising children, living peacefully to old age?
Or…
At that moment, countless images flashed through his mind.
In the dim underground garage, those people stood behind him, bowing deeply and saying in unison, “We ask the Sword Saint of Great Xia to slay the gods.”
In the mist, Lin Qiye and the others rode a cloud between two gods, smiling and telling him not to doubt or fear—because he was the one walking at the forefront of humanity.
In the grand Buddhist hall, the golden Buddha sat on the ground, gazing at the black coffin, smiling silently…
In his chest, the crystalline heart beat powerfully. The body forged to bear the power of the laws trembled slightly with each beat, as if anticipating something.
After a moment, Zhou Ping’s eyes gradually brightened.
His heart, his body, his laws, his sword… none of them existed so he could hide in the suburbs and live out his days in peace.
Everything he was—was born to slay gods.
If he buried his head in the sand, ignored the crises right in front of him, and tried to live a safe, quiet life… wouldn’t that be nothing more than running from reality?
His sword heart—and the body forged to kill gods—would never allow it.