Volume One: Youthful Encounters in Humble Times Chapter 128: The Daoist's Final Arrangements

When he lived in Red Spring Village, there was a poor scholar who often lamented the changing seasons. Once, Li Yu happened to pass by him and overheard him say, “Though the objects remain, the people have changed; all is lost. Tears come before words can be spoken.” At that time, Li Yu only thought the phrase was intriguing and committed it to memory. He did not truly understand the hidden meaning then, but now, reflecting upon it, he sensed a certain depth of feeling.

The scenes of the past were vivid before his eyes. The master who had once accompanied Li Yu was no longer there.

When Li Yu pushed open the door, he gazed at the familiar courtyard but was overcome by a long-lost sense of estrangement. Everything was silent, not a sound to be heard, filling his heart with an inexplicable suffocating feeling.

Chenyuan followed Li Yu inside. It was also his first time entering the Youyi Pavilion, a place he had been naturally curious about—curious about the mysteries hidden in the place where the Daoist had spent many years.

Yet upon entering, all he could sense was that Youyi Pavilion was veiled in secrecy. Although he could clearly see everything before him, the true mysteries remained elusive.

Li Yu paid no mind to what Chenyuan was doing. He ignored Chenyuan and strode straight through the main hall back to the inner courtyard.

Chenyuan did not blame Li Yu for neglecting to show hospitality. Helplessly and with pity, he watched Li Yu walk into the inner courtyard, returning to a place he was familiar with, silently licking his own wounds.

Just as Li Yu disappeared from sight, Chenyuan could not help but speak, “If your master were still alive, he would not want to see you like this.”

Li Yu’s steps faltered slightly, lost in thought, then his voice came hoarse and rough, “I know, senior. Xu Kaijiang, please take care of him first.” He added quietly, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Chenyuan understood that this last sentence was not so much for him as it was for the master in Li Yu’s heart. He wanted to reassure the Daoist, to say that he was well and that he could rest easy.

But would he truly be alright? Chenyuan did not know, nor did Li Yu himself.

His memory had always been sharp, so vivid that every important event from the past was as clear as if it were happening before his eyes.

He remembered that when he was with the Li family, his grandfather left and never returned. It was a late night; he waited alone in the dark courtyard for his grandfather to come home, only to be met with cold news and the pitying, sorrowful looks of others.

He had long understood the nature of death because his grandfather had taught him: if one day he died, it meant Li Yu would have to live alone. How to live thereafter was the one thing his grandfather most hoped he would accomplish.

And indeed, from that day on, Li Yu relentlessly sought ways to survive, which led to his escape from the Li family. He endured many trials, met his grandmother, but in the end, even she left him.

At that time, he had almost lost the will to live.

Thus, he undertook his remaining tasks with the resolve to die. Outwardly, apart from the lifelessness in his eyes, everything else appeared perfectly normal.

But now, he knew he could not die, and he understood that Chenyuan’s presence was not only to protect him but also a measure by his master to prevent him from taking his own life.

From Li Yu’s inner heart to all the external conditions that might lead to death, the Daoist had tightly sealed every possibility. Before departing, the Daoist’s only concern was this one matter. How could Li Yu ever disappoint his master?

Yet when Li Yu saw that the light in his master’s room no longer shone, a pang of pain stirred in his heart.

He opened the door and stepped inside, looking at everything familiar—the meditation cushion, the bookshelf, the desk, the arrangements—all so known, yet lacking the one person he knew best.

Li Yu picked up the fire striker on the desk, lit the lamp, then sat opposite the Daoist’s cushion, just as he used to listen to his master’s teachings, hearing tales and gossip from the cultivation world. As he thought, Li Yu’s defenses completely relaxed. Unconsciously, a tear fell onto the back of his hand, then more. In that moment, the room echoed with the soft sounds of sobbing.

The night was still, utterly silent, making Li Yu’s crying all the more distinct.

His tears seemed to wail over the tragic past of Tianmen Town and the seemingly endless hope that was nowhere to be found.

Chenyuan, uninterested in inspecting the courtyard, listened to Li Yu’s cries and finally felt relieved. He thought, as long as Li Yu could cry, it meant he would gradually heal. If he never cried, Chenyuan would have to remain perpetually vigilant.

After all, if a suspected half-dragon person committed suicide and no intervention occurred in time, Chenyuan might not be able to guarantee Li Yu’s safety, intact and unharmed.

He sighed deeply and looked up at the sky, “Daoist, you have truly left me with a difficult task.”

After Li Yu cried in the Daoist’s quiet chamber for a long while, his sobs gradually subsided. Suddenly, a familiar voice, gentle and teasing, reached his ears.

“All right, Little Fish, stop crying. If you cry any more, your master will really leave.”

The voice was like heavenly music. Li Yu was shocked, lifting his head in disbelief to see the Daoist before him. He wanted to leap toward him, but found he could not move.

The Daoist smiled at Li Yu. “I never expected the usually composed Little Fish to have such a childish side. Why is it only after I’m gone that you show this adorable, interesting face?”

Li Yu excitedly asked, “Master, you’re not dead, are you?”

The Daoist shook his head. “No. What you see now is the essence I left in the lamp beforehand. Since you can see me, it means your master is no longer among the living.”

Hearing this, Li Yu’s newly stopped tears began to flow again. Heartbroken and despairing, he asked, “Really? Is there truly no way?”

The Daoist said, “Little Fish, this is my choice. It has nothing to do with others, nor with Heaven. You must not blame Heaven or others, lest your future cultivation be hindered by such burdens.”

After saying this, he continued, “There have always been only two things I wished to accomplish: how to destroy Tianmen and how to make Tianmen Town a place of the Way. For this, I devoted many years, even sacrificing all my cultivation. These were my willing acts; no one forced or threatened me. In this world, there is only what I wish to do, never what I must do.”

In the past, Li Yu might have teased his master for such words, but now, he only wished to remain by his side like this.

The Daoist went on, “I have calculated everything, even the Heaven’s Way governing this place. Thus, Tianmen was destroyed, and Tianmen Town became a place of the Way. But this is only the beginning. When the outside world catches on, they will come looking for trouble. I instructed Chenyuan to protect you, but ultimately, only by growing stronger yourself can you face things freely. Next, you must go to the Imperial Supreme Hall. You must become one of them to shield yourself and grow powerful.”

Hearing this, Li Yu finally understood why the Daoist had left such an essence in the lamp—it was because he still worried about him.

Li Yu asked, “If I can’t cultivate, can I still go to the Imperial Supreme Hall?”

The Daoist waved and took down a mural hanging on the wall, handing it to Li Yu. “Inside are my two great Ways: the Way of Primordial Origin and the Way of Time. Soon, I will take you to tame the Nether Beast—it is the key to reopening your Heavenly Orifice.”

Li Yu was not hearing the term “Nether Beast” for the first time. He knew of a strange beast dwelling in the Nether Sea and had glimpsed its shadow at dawn.

It was a divine beast comparable to a saint.

Li Yu was not particularly shocked. In his view, if his master wished to do something, nothing was impossible. Yet he did not understand why the Nether Beast was necessary.

The Daoist explained, “If it were an ordinary person’s Heavenly Orifice, reopening it would be simple. But you are not ordinary, so ordinary methods won’t work to reconstruct your Heavenly Orifice. The Nether Beast masters the Nether Way, which, besides the Five Innate Origins, is the most profound and unfathomable Way. Over the years, I observed you—your whole being is like a flawless jade figure. If we used normal methods, you might end up destroyed along with the jade. Only by using the Nether Way’s intangible, all-consuming nature can we create a new orifice for you. This way, your life is protected, and you can embark on the path of cultivation.”

Then Li Yu thought of the yin-yang fish he had raised for many years in the pond outside and asked, “What about those two fish? What is their purpose?”

The Daoist beckoned, and the two fish flew in from the pond, ignoring the wall.

The fish looked at the Daoist’s apparition with what seemed like mockery, sympathy, but mostly compassion for the Daoist’s self-sacrificial transcendence. The Daoist gazed at them and smiled.

“You needn’t pity me, little fellows. Had you not met us, the fate awaiting you would likely not be any better.”

The two fish rolled their eyes disdainfully, with a proud air, as if to say, “You have the nerve to speak of us? You yourself ended up transcending the Dao—you’re no better off.”

The Daoist paid no mind and continued to explain to Li Yu, “Because I want to create for you a Heavenly Orifice like none before—a Yin-Yang Orifice.”