Chapter 245 Returning Home!
Pure Land Palace.
The atmosphere in front of the lotus pedestal began to become a little awkward.
Why are you still here?
Ouyang Rong ignored Liu Zilin's words, staring blankly around, frowning in confusion.
The purple mist in Ouyang Rong's eyes had long since faded, as if it had never happened.
The crowd, which had initially retreated in surprise and doubt, surrounded them once again.
Liu Zilin's nasolabial folds twitched slightly: "What? It's still here? Have you lost your mind?"
Ouyang Rong suddenly looked up: "I know, it was me who led you all to ascend, right? That should be it, that's right."
Ouyang Rong looked around the dimly lit underground palace, ignoring the sharp blade at his neck, and suddenly stood up, looking up at the well above him.
He stood on the lotus pedestal, looking bewildered, and reached out his palm, trying to grasp at the familiar blue sky of his "hometown" outside the well.
"Give me the rope, I want to climb up and take a look. I'm taking you all to heaven, go up and see for yourselves if you don't believe me, the truth is out there, see for yourselves."
He was trembling with excitement, his gaze was exceptionally firm, and he was muttering to himself.
Liu Zilin looked at him with surprise and suspicion, but his tone couldn't hide his irritation:
"Are you out of your mind? Where's the sword? What happened to your eyes just now? Was it because of that precious pearl? Give it to me, give it to me now!"
He abruptly pulled down the young man who was standing on the lotus platform, looking up and stretching out his hands, muttering to himself. He grabbed the latter's hands and pried them open one by one, but they were empty; there was no trace of the precious pearl.
Ouyang Rong suddenly pulled his arm away, turned around and lunged to grab the rope hanging from the well.
"Let me up, let me up quickly! I've returned home, I'm sure I've returned home! Liu Zilin, do whatever you want with me, just let me take a look, let me go up and take a look! I've brought you to the Pure Land!"
The young magistrate, his clothes and hair disheveled, gripped the rope and desperately climbed upwards, his eyes beginning to redden with a sickly tinge.
"What happened to the promised 'returning home'? How could the deducted merits be fake? If Master Zhongma can ascend to heaven, why can't I?"
"You damned woman! Ouyang Lianghan, have you gone mad?"
Liu Zilin's eyes widened, his chest burning with rage, and he kicked the young man climbing the rope hard:
"I'll say it one last time, hand over the precious pearl!"
Ouyang Rong ignored the warnings and continued climbing, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the patch of blue sky above.
Four servants in blue robes immediately rushed forward, pulling and tugging at Ouyang Rong, and dragged him back.
"Let me go!"
The latter struggled desperately.
Suddenly, there was a "plop".
Ouyang Rong felt a chill in his stomach.
Then came a warm, slightly sore sensation that flowed down my lower abdomen.
He stiffened for a moment, then knelt down on the lotus pedestal with a thud, staring blankly at the knife hilt that had appeared on his stomach.
Thick, hot liquid dripped in a stream onto the dusty lotus-shaped platform.
"Neuropathy!"
Liu Zilin cursed angrily, shoved Ouyang Rong aside, flung his sword hilt aside, and roared at his subordinates beside him with a murderous look on his face:
"Hold this madman down and let me find the pearl first."
After saying that, he quickly squatted down in front of the lotus platform, reached out and felt around the shadow below the platform where Ouyang Rong had previously touched, his eyes anxious as he searched the ground for the precious pearl.
The underground palace was dark, and a ray of sunlight fell from the well, landing only on the lotus pedestal in the center of the palace, and also on a muttering young man with a bruised nose, swollen eyes, and a knife in his abdomen.
Dust particles rippled slowly within the beam of light.
"Returning home...returning home...pure land...pure land..."
Ouyang Rong lowered his short-haired head, his arms were tied behind his back, and he was pressed down hard by the servant in blue. The short knife in his stomach moved slowly with the rhythm of his breathing. He knelt in a pool of blood.
Amidst Liu Zilin's frantic and furious shouts as he frantically searched for the pearl on the ground, and the vicious insults hurled at him by the surrounding servants in blue.
Ouyang Rong slowly raised his head.
He raised his pale face, and before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face and his eyes were bloodshot.
The kneeling youth suddenly sprang up, struggling desperately, ignoring the gushing blood from his abdominal wound.
The guards quickly tried to hold him down, but he remained upright, head bowed, tears streaming down his face, as he looked up at a small well above him and cried out in anguish:
"It's fake! It's all fake!"
The roar echoed through the underground palace.
A distant place that had long been regarded as a peaceful and serene haven has been completely destroyed.
Having a home but not going back to it, and having no home at all, are two different things.
If there are no people who yearn for "distant places," then what is left?
Ouyang Rong knelt on the ground, looking up at the sky, his voice hoarse, letting out a silent roar.
Death is not scary; what is scary is the bloody reality that is disgusting after disillusionment.
It's better to die.
The servants in blue robes either glanced at them with emotion or drew their swords with cold eyes.
"Found it!"
Just then, Liu Zilin, who was kneeling in front of the lotus seat and groping around on the ground, suddenly felt a surge of joy. In the same spot where Ouyang Rong's hands, which had been surging with purple energy, had just touched, he also found something unusual—a cold, rough stone carving on the ground that looked like four characters.
"As expected, there was a hidden mechanism inside! You, Ouyang Lianghan, you really hid it well!"
Liu Zilin pressed his finger firmly against the unknown four-character stone inscription.
No response.
He first frowned slightly, then leaned down and brought his head close.
The underground palace was dark. Although the lotus pedestal in the center was illuminated by the light from the well opening, the ground beneath the pedestal was perpetually blocked by the lotus pedestal, remaining damp and shadowy, and covered with dark moss.
Liu Zilin turned his head, preparing to light a torch, but paused, did not get up, and casually drew his Moonlight Longsword, bringing the blade close to his hand.
The perennial shadow beneath the lotus pedestal was dispelled by the hazy moonlight.
The four-character stone inscription has finally been revealed.
Liu Zilin frowned and examined it closely, then leaned closer and slowly uttered, "Return...to...then?"
Meanwhile, the cold stone carving of "Return Home" on the floor, which no one knew who had carved it, silently absorbed the cold moonlight emanating from a certain sword's edge for a while.
Liu Zilin suddenly frowned, noticing that the four-character stone inscription in front of him seemed to be... lit up?
Indeed, after being enveloped in the hazy moonlight, the Moonlight Sword began to emit a brighter moonlight than the former, yet the two seemed to originate from the same source.
One is brighter, and the other is darker.
"There really is a mechanism..." Before Liu Zilin could completely hide his smile.
"Snap—!"
A slight cracking sound came from all four sides of the underground palace.
Beneath the lotus pedestal, the four characters "归去来兮" (Return Home) are carved in stone and shine brightly.
It's as if a switch has been flipped correctly, and something that has been dormant for a long time is slowly being awakened.
"What is this?" Liu Zilin straightened up, his face showing a mixture of joy and panic as he looked around. The servants in blue robes also hurriedly gripped their knives, on high alert in a panic.
A series of faint cracking sounds emanated from the four walls of the underground palace.
Click... Click...
On the four walls painted with Jataka tales, fragments have fallen off, slowly revealing what lies behind the murals... an old wall that looks like it has been blackened by fireworks.
Bright, dazzling moonlight slowly shone from where the fragments had fallen.
It seemed that something was shining brightly on the inner old wall, so brightly that the new murals on the outside could no longer be concealed and fell off.
This scene was like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, revealing its true form in just three breaths.
On the four walls of the underground palace, there are lines of hasty and messy writing, which have reappeared along with the old walls.
These lines of unfamiliar handwriting, like the four characters "归去来兮" carved in stone, radiate a dazzling moonlight.
For a moment, the underground palace was illuminated.
The faint shadows of Ouyang Rong, Liu Zilin, and the servants in blue were stretched very long.
The bright moonlight shone on the blank, bewildered faces.
"Return home... My fields are overgrown with weeds, why not return? Since I have allowed my heart to be enslaved by my body... Why am I so sad and alone... What kind of nonsense is this?"
Liu Zilin stared at the long text on the wall, read the first few sentences, and frowned. Just in case, he quickly took out the blood-stained Buddhist scripture, bowed his head, and silently recited it. After finishing, he directed a soft shout towards the brightly lit underground palace:
"Craftsmanship! Craftsmanship? Craftsmanship... craftsmanship."
The sword has not yet appeared.
Liu Zilin immediately turned around, his eyes wide with shock, and angrily questioned Ouyang Rong:
"Where is my bead? How come it's just a piece of rubbish poetry? Where is the bead? Is it in the underground palace? Tell me now!" He grabbed the hilt of the knife in Ouyang Rong's abdomen again and pressed him with force.
On the wall of the underground palace is a poem titled "Returning Home".
Ouyang Rong, whose stomach pain had numbed him, knelt on the lotus seat and turned his head blankly.
He already knew this poem by heart.
But what truly stunned him was that the moonstone carvings on these four walls contained more than just one piece of "Returning Home".
At the end of the poem on the east wall, there was an additional passage, filled with sorrow and grief...
Ouyang Rong stared intently at the last words.
It comes from the sword energy of a Donglin Temple monk who, a hundred years ago, used a cauldron-shaped sword to hastily leave behind the poem "Returning Home" before his death.
Master Zhongma.
"Hahahaha...This is so funny! This is so funny, hahahaha..."
The young magistrate suddenly threw his head back and laughed, but the laughter did not bring joy to Liu Zilin and the others; instead, it evoked an indescribable sense of sorrow and despair.
"You, Tao Yuanming, it's one thing to refuse to be the magistrate of Longcheng County, but you also refuse to be a proper 'Poor Scholar' sword master. Before retiring, you deliberately left this 'Poor Scholar' sword manual to the monks of Donglin Temple, harming future generations!"
"Tao Yuanming, you were so noble! You were amazing!"
He pointed to a poem on the wall, its lines swirling with moonlight and sword energy, and burst into laughter, clutching his stomach, nearly laughing his intestines out of his bleeding wound. Ouyang Rong was still ecstatic.
"And you, Master Zhongma, you stole the sword, fine, but what kind of bullshit Lotus Pagoda Alliance is this? For that broken sword, you drew a circle around yourself in the underground palace under the Lotus Pagoda after the fire, and died from the smoke. You died, fine, but what about your sword manual? You're trying to use your physical body to become a Buddha! You're misleading future generations like this!"
"I was totally fooled by you two, hahaha... No, no, no, I'm the stupid one, okay! I'm the stupid one, neither of you are wrong, hahaha!"
Ouyang Rong seemed to have transformed into some old-timer who enjoys taking the postgraduate entrance exam, but beneath that bright smile lay a deep indifference and loneliness.
He laughed at the folly of those who came before him, and he also laughed at his own folly.
"Where in this world is there any such thing as the blessing of 'returning home'? It's just a piece of bullshit sword manual called 'Ode to Returning Home'."
"The Ding Sword doesn't have any fixed 'embedded object.' This entire Dragon City is its invisible sword furnace, its 'embedded object.' That old senior gave the opportunity to everyone! That's damn fair!"
Ouyang Rong covered his belly with both hands, which was full of blood, and laughed and muttered like a madman.
Everyone was surprised and uncertain upon hearing this. Ouyang Rong's previous words had left Liu Zilin completely baffled, but the following words startled him.
"What do you mean! The entire Dragon City is just a facade?!"
Liu Zilin rushed forward, his large hand gripping the collar of the limp Ouyang Rong like a vise, spitting as he glared and demanded:
"Also, you said that the article on the wall is also a sword manual?"
Ouyang Rong lowered his head, his bloodied hand stroking the hilt of the knife stuck in his abdomen, letting out a low, hoarse laugh:
"Otherwise what? The old master is just teasing you. The one on the wall is the real 'Humble Scholar' sword manual. You didn't expect that, did you? Hahaha, I already said it's the Humble Scholar sword manual, why are you reciting some bullshit Buddhist scriptures?"
"Wait, doesn't that mean..."
Liu Zilin was initially shocked, then overjoyed. He dropped the blood-stained Buddhist scripture, and the next second, as if realizing something, he quickly pressed the young magistrate's head firmly to the floor, blocking his eyes, and at the same time shouted sternly:
"Sword techniques are not something you can look at too much..."
He reached for the Moonlight Sword, intending to chop off the head before turning around and reciting the long sword manual on the four walls.
The next instant, what happened before his eyes terrified Liu Zilin.
The young man below, his eyes vacant, turned his head to the side and softly uttered two words:
"Craftsmanship".
Suddenly, a shiver from the very core of Liu Zilin's being surged up his cervical spine from the soles of his feet, as if trying to rip open the top of his head.
Liu Zilin's eyes blazed with fury: "You are..."
The third young master of the Liu family only had time to utter those two words.
At this moment, his wide eyes clearly reflected a clear blue arc.
An "arc" appeared in the underground palace.
No one saw clearly how it appeared.
It's like a myth that suddenly appears in the mortal world.
"arc".
A beam of sunlight floats in the center of the underground palace.
It is neither a sword nor a cauldron.
Not a single speck of dust could land on "Arc".
From the perspective of anyone inside the underground palace, it appears as an arc.
Under the interplay of sunlight and moonlight, the clear blue color, like a clear sky, was so beautiful, and it also possessed a perfect arc that no one in the audience had ever seen before.
It's a little more curved than a straight line, but a little straighter than the outline of the sun and moon.
It is an elegant and intuitive work of art.
It's called craftsmanship.
She was just as beautiful and elegant as she reaped the heads of the people in front of her.
Ouyang Rong lay sprawled on the ground, his limbs limp and weak, his face pressed against the cold floor, his heart filled with despair.
The underground palace around him fell into a brief, deathly silence, before suddenly erupting into chaos.
Some turned and ran away, while others rushed forward in fear.
As everyone knows, the swordsman is the most powerful killer, but also as fragile as glass.
A series of flashes of light and shadow passed through the underground palace.
A fragment of a blade, sent flying by the shockwave, spun in the air.
Its mirror-like surfaces reflect scenes of silent events.
Fragmented, bizarre, and grotesque:
There are fragments of limbs.
There is vomit.
They had dull eyes that stared like copper bells.
It has silently opened its yellow teeth and bloody mouth.
There are also jets of hot liquid that are poured onto the lotus-shaped stone base.
There were also scattered figures fleeing and falling to the ground, and stiff bodies kneeling and kowtowing.
Finally, there was Liu Zilin's bloodshot, lifeless eyes, filled with resentment and bitterness, paired with a face etched with disbelief and incredulity.
Thump! — Thump! — Thump! — Thump! — Thump!
In the brightly lit Pure Land Palace, heads fell one by one.
The final note had a subtle, elegant rhythm, like an artist arriving late, calmly playing a newly composed piece.
In this short but urgent, one-sided killing melody.
The greediest of the greedy die in their relentless search for treasure.
The one who is least desireful obtains the things that most easily arouse greed and desire.
Those who yearn for home most, their hopes shattered, can no longer find their way back.
The most indignant, even if they possess a mythical sword, can only rage in vain.
Fate has indeed played a terrible joke on someone.
Inside the empty underground palace, Ouyang Rong and the others lay prone on the ground, remaining completely still throughout.
His right cheek pressed against the cold, rough floor, his short, blood-red hair framed by dull, dark eyes reflecting the four characters "Return Home" carved in moonlight beneath the "Crimson Lotus Throne" in front of him. A murmur echoed in the empty, deserted underground palace:
“Return home…Why am I so anxious and restless? Wealth and honor are not my desire, and the imperial capital is beyond my reach…Alas, the imperial capital is beyond my reach.”
Death cannot defeat an idealist, but the "truth" can; it can easily destroy beliefs and shatter spiritual sustenance. Lies are not terrible; the truth is the deadly blade.
(End of this chapter)
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