Chapter 790 The one who holds the hairpin is not harmed? Extremely insulting!
The wind in the bamboo forest has stopped.
The music stopped.
Time seemed to stand still.
In the center of the bamboo courtyard, the old musician playing the zither looked down at his withered hands pressing the strings.
The inside of the thumb and the second joint of the index finger of this withered hand have formed symmetrical calluses, which are caused by the pressure applied when frequently grinding ink. There are also bluish-black palm lines that have been penetrated by ink stains, which look like the edge of the palm has been in contact with the inkstone when frequently dipping the hand in ink.
He looks like an elderly man who has been immersed in painting for many years.
Just like his obsession with music and art.
The old musician sighed, turned around, and said to Wu Daozi standing behind him:
"Didn't you say you wanted to go back to the mountains, follow your master's example, guard a Taoist temple, and never go out again?"
Wu Daozi squinted, walked to sit opposite the old musician, and suddenly recited a poem:
"The Three Pure Ones only need to be covered in mud, but Buddha needs a golden body. In times of chaos, Bodhisattvas do not appear in the world, and the old Taoist priest saves the common people with his sword on his back."
“What chaotic world, what common people?” The old musician shook his head and touched his thinning hair. “If I remember correctly, it’s the third year of the Tianyou era of the Great Zhou Dynasty. It’s not some chaotic world, is it?”
Wu Daozi pointed to the quiet bamboo grove outside the courtyard wall:
"Isn't it chaotic enough outside?"
The old musician's expression turned serious, and he corrected him:
"That's all because of your meddling. Xunyang would be fine if you hadn't come."
Wu Daozi's expression remained calm:
"You have lived in the palace for a long time, playing music for emperors and generals. Of course you don't know the hardships of the people, nor do you know how long the common people have suffered. Your music is not for the common people to hear."
The old musician shook his head:
“I am the son of a carpenter, how could I not know the hardships of the people? I am not self-admiring either. I love the pipa of Xunyang. These days, I have consulted many poor young women who play the pipa on the banks of the Xunyang River. I understand better than you what ordinary people need. It is not about changing the world or about being passionate and heroic. Peace and tranquility are the most precious things.”
"Old Yu, do you think everyone is like you, just getting by? Getting taken advantage of and still smiling at them?"
Wu Daozi smiled and pointed to the surrounding courtyards and the old musician's luggage beside him:
"No wonder you're so old and still practically under house arrest, forced to shine passively. The false emperor and the Imperial Observatory really have you wrapped around their little finger. It's truly pathetic and lamentable that a dignified swordsman like you is so pitiful."
The old musician shook his head: "It wasn't forced. It was something I promised. I may be lazy by nature, but I never break my word."
Wu Daozi was overjoyed, pointing to the main grotto not far away:
"Old Yu, go out and turn left, walk straight to the grotto, ask the Donglin Buddha to move its seat, and you can sit on it."
The old musician wasn't annoyed; he just looked at his old friend's familiar, unchanged face and sighed repeatedly.
Wu Daozi suddenly said, "Old Yu, do you know what I've always hated most about people like you, from back then until now?"
"Go ahead and speak."
"I despise you lot the most, those who regard weakness and compromise as saintly compassion. You always compromise, compromise, and compromise again, endlessly making concessions, always placing your hopes on others. Little do you know that the promises of those in power are just empty promises, yet you harbor an almost naive illusion about them. As a result, they will only become more demanding, and you will only become more indulgent, eventually having to accept the predetermined outcome."
The old musician stared at Wu Daozi, who had a mocking expression, for a while, then sighed softly:
"It seems that the events that occurred after Emperor Gaozong's death still have a significant impact on you, and you still find it difficult to let go of them."
Wu Daozi neither admitted nor denied it:
"When I left the palace back then, it was indeed somewhat impulsive, and I was a little disappointed, but that's not the reason I'm coming down the mountain this time. Over the years, as I've grown older, I've gradually come to realize something, and that's why I'm coming down the mountain."
The old musician asked curiously, "What is it?"
Wu Daozi smiled and pointed to his hunched shoulders:
"Responsibility, the responsibility of every citizen for the rise and fall of the nation. Only at this age can I clearly realize that we old bones, as the elders, must stand up and say or do something to show the younger generation. We cannot continue to remain silent, and we cannot give the right and wrong to those eloquent and treacherous villains. Otherwise, it would be the greatest dereliction of duty."
The old musician seemed to think about it seriously for a moment, then shook his head:
"That year of great change, I, like you, also experienced it... It is rare to be over seventy years old, and I am somewhat like you, having suddenly realized some truths."
"What's the logic behind that?"
The old musician said, word by word, "Any radical change will ultimately benefit the old and new elites. Whether there is change or not is actually irrelevant to ordinary people. Being eager for change will only backfire."
After saying this, the old musician looked somewhat wistful and murmured repeatedly:
"Take your time, take your time, slow is fast, slow is fast..."
"Take it slow? Old Yu, you still have hope."
Wu Daozi chuckled, stood up, and walked towards the courtyard gate.
The squinty-eyed old man walked up the steps in front of the courtyard gate, saying as he went:
"Old Yu, the prosperous era you envisioned died more than a decade ago. What you're seeing now is just the process of a corpse rotting."
"When I went to Chang'an back then, I, like you, dreamed of a prosperous and peaceful world. A year after Emperor Gaozong left, did anyone care about the people suffering from disasters outside the pass?"
"No.
Has anyone cared about the Han people who are in dire need of expanding their territory on the frontier?
"No.
"The entire court is vying for power in a vacuum. The powerful families within the Great Wall are scheming against each other among the Five Clans and Seven Noble Families; the virtuous Empress Dowager is fighting the willful Crown Prince for the throne, leading to a falling out between mother and son; the Qi cultivators of the Imperial Observatory are vying for the dragon vein's fortune with the Qi observers of the Zhongnan Mountain National Religion..."
Is someone doing something?
"No.
"The current Great Zhou is nothing more than a corpse covered with heavy makeup."
"What difference is there between any action taken against it and preparing a funeral that is kept secret?"
No, not at all.
Wu Daozi shook his head and was about to walk out the door:
"Stop playing this zither. You can't stop them. Instead of wasting your cultivation, save your spiritual energy and think about where to go so that the false emperor and the Imperial Observatory won't come after you again and make you work like a slave."
The old musician suddenly interrupted:
"Someone is doing something."
Wu Daozi didn't hear clearly for a moment, and paused slightly: "Hmm?"
The old musician said earnestly:
“As I have traveled, I have seen people working hard. At least in Xunyang, Jiangzhou, I have seen it with my own eyes.”
The old man lowered his head and stroked the strings of the zither, his face filled with reminiscence. He recalled that not long ago, a young woman in palace attire had told him, with unusual radiance, the commemorative inscription she had carved on the dome of the main grotto.
The old musician said with a smile:
“Rong girl is one of them. I will leave, but not now. I will not stand idly by.”
Wu Daozi was not surprised at all and continued forward toward the courtyard gate:
"Please do as you wish. I've also taught half a disciple, so I might be able to meet your little girl disciple."
The old musician suddenly said:
"If you can be captured in the painting, you are not in your true form. Where is your true form?"
"This body is enough."
Wu Daozi calmly replied and walked out of the courtyard.
He had barely stepped out of the courtyard when he vanished without a trace...
On the south bank of Shuangfengjian, on the cliff of Nanfeng.
Yuan Huaimin stared blankly as Mr. Wu walked into the painting and then walked out of it after a moment.
This is a newly painted scene depicting the two banks of Shuangfengjian in the style of ink wash painting. The scene appears to float in the air, but the white mist over the river has been omitted, and the scenery on both the north and south banks is rendered in exquisite detail.
Yuan Huaimin noticed a detail: after Mr. Wu entered the painting, a small figure in the painting who resembled Mr. Wu went to a bamboo grove on the north bank of the scroll. It seemed that in a small courtyard in the bamboo grove, he sat cross-legged opposite a small figure in the painting who appeared to be an old man playing the zither, and they were talking about something...
These elements have always been vividly depicted in the paintings.
A smiling old man stepped out of the painting and patted his sleeves.
Almost as soon as he landed, a zither melody from the bamboo forest rang out again, echoing throughout the Twin Peaks.
Wu Daozi said to the dull-looking young man sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed not far away:
“Continue. Old Yu doesn’t have the fake Ding Sword. He has always been secretly suspected by the false emperor. He is no longer the sword master and can’t exert much of the [Emperor Wen’s] divine power. What he is consuming now is the [Emperor Wen’s] echo that he previously intercepted.”
Du Shuqing held a special Yunmeng Token, continuously infusing it with spiritual energy. A bronze longsword floated above his head. The man and the two swords seemed to be connected in some way.
Upon hearing this, Du Shuqing nodded without opening her eyes.
Above them, Wei Shaoqi held a scroll depicting the Peach Blossom Spring, his sleeves fluttering, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation, somewhat resembling the state of a palace-dressed girl on a high platform somewhere.
Wu Daozi stood with his hands behind his back, tilted his head back, and squinted at Wei Shaoqi.
Yuan Huaimin, who was barely visible to the outside, reached into his pocket and couldn't help but say to the old man:
"What did Mr. Wu just do? When will he bring Qiu Niang and Liang Han?"
Wu Daozi snapped out of his reverie, grunted in response, and turned to look at the painting of the Twin Peaks floating in front of him, as if searching for something. However, the old painter was clearly distracted, and as he searched, his gaze eventually fell on the figure of an old man playing the zither in the bamboo forest and courtyard on the north bank of the painting.
He suddenly said, "Let me see him off later."
Yuan Huaimin was puzzled.
Du Shuqing remained silent, only nodding.
At this moment, inside the main grotto.
Yi Qianqiu, Wei Wu, and the others, who had felt as if they had fallen into an ice cave, showed joy upon hearing the familiar zither music return.
This time, the music was even more melodious, and golden light emanated from the Buddhist beads in the sleeves of Yi Qianqiu and the others, enveloping them, as did Rong Zhen's figure on the high platform.
As the music played, golden light spread out, gradually enveloping the high platform and the Donglin Buddha...
The injured white dragon, its body a deep bronze, was undergoing a strange transformation, emanating a multicolored aura of spiritual energy—blue, red, and purple—as if it had been revitalized.
The white dragon seemed to have regained its energy, becoming even more vibrant and agile. It swept its tail across the high platform, while its ferocious dragon head simultaneously crashed into the Donglin Buddha.
"Boom—!"
After a loud bang, the white dragon passed through the high platform and the Buddha statue, crashing into the cliff behind it. The ground shook violently, and many of the sentries on the cliff edge were thrown to the ground.
However, the high platform and the Donglin Buddha, shrouded in a faint golden hue amidst the music, remained unharmed.
This also applies to people like Yi Qianqiu and Wei Wu who possess Buddhist prayer beads.
They also began to hide on the high platform, guarding the palace-dressed girl with her eyes tightly closed.
"Bah!"
The white dragon let out a long roar, undeterred, and charged towards the high platform and the Buddha again.
However, Yi Qianqiu and the others gradually discovered that the golden light on their bodies was fading with the passage of time and the increasing number of attacks from the white dragon.
It's as if it's about to disappear.
Yi Qianqiu and the others felt a chill run down their spines.
The white dragon is now unstoppable and is rampaging right in front of us.
Yi Qianqiu turned his head to look at the sky.
Within that cloud of mist, Granny Song and Xue Zhongzhu were still locked in combat.
However, judging from the fact that Granny Song was seriously injured, and Xue Zhongzhu was fighting more and more fiercely, it was not a good omen.
Princess Zhenxian on the high platform still kept her eyes closed.
She was engaging in a magical duel with the middle-aged scholar on the distant South Peak.
The two fought, but it is unknown where or under what circumstances.
Yi Qianqiu could only see the girl in palace attire gradually furrowing her brows.
Wei Shaoqi diverted all the energy from the Donglin Buddha formation.
Yi Qianqiu glanced at Wei Wu beside her. This confidant of the King of Wei, dressed as a groom, was expressionless and was also observing the situation on the field, his eyes somewhat serious and gloomy.
Perhaps sensing Yi Qianqiu's gaze, Wei Wu turned his head, and the two stared at each other for a moment before the latter forced a smile:
"Commander Yi, do not worry. The situation may not be as bad as we think. We have already withstood the offensive. Besides, the princess has prepared some backup plans... If all else fails, we still have the preparations of the Prince of Wei's mansion..."
Just as Wei Wu was trying to comfort him, the thick clouds above suddenly exploded.
Granny Song was sent flying backwards, landing on the high platform. A Han-style palace lantern crashed to the ground at her feet, and her purple-gold palace dress was torn to shreds.
Fortunately, the golden light enveloped her and temporarily protected her.
Seeing the disheveled return of Granny Song, Wei Wu choked on his words, his face turning ugly, while Yi Qianqiu and the others looked somewhat shocked.
Has the Grand Queen of Yunmeng improved her strength so quickly? It didn't seem this exaggerated during the Xingzi Lake Buddha incident.
The hearts of everyone on the platform grew colder.
Snow Candle coldly stepped out of the gradually dissipating clouds and stood on the head of the white dragon, infusing purple energy into its bronze body.
With the blessing of the purple aura of a high-grade Qi cultivator, the white dragon soared into the air, as if it had transformed into a dragon, riding the clouds and mist, looking down at everyone.
As it approached the dome, the enormous white dragon seemed to find the main cave's space too small, and impatiently bumped its head against the top of the cave. Immediately, many cracks appeared on the lotus stone carvings on the ceiling, including the ring of inscriptions, which were on the verge of collapse.
Rong Zhen was closing his eyes and clutching white jade prayer beads when he heard a noise and suddenly opened his eyes.
She quickly formed hand seals to stabilize the crumbling formation, and then blood gushed from her tightly pursed pink lips... as if she had suddenly escaped the backlash from the battle between the Emperor Wen and the Poor Scholar.
"Get out of my way! Don't touch it!"
Blood trickled from Rong Zhen's lips, but her voice was hoarse and shrill. Ignoring everything else, her petite body suddenly leaped into the air, using the large Buddha behind her as a foothold, and jumped continuously on its body, rushing all the way to the cave's dome.
Everyone stared in shock at her petite figure, which seemed to fly like a moth to a flame.
In her haste, this immortal princess broke free from the golden light's protection and risked her life to protect the lotus stone carving.
The tall, blonde Orangutan stood with her hands behind her back, watching the scene with icy eyes. The white dragon beneath her feet immediately opened its blood-red maw, ready to swallow this woman who was about to die.
But the next second, he was kicked on the forehead, and the white dragon immediately shut his mouth.
The long sword hanging beside Xue Zhongzhu flew out with a "whoosh," as fast as lightning, but deliberately avoided the blade, only using the hilt to strike Rongzhen's abdomen, knocking the somewhat crazy palace-dressed girl away, blood spurting from her throat, and she fell back to the high platform along the same path.
Yi Qianqiu, Granny Song, and the others hurriedly caught her petite figure in the purple dress.
At this moment, Rongzhen and the others on the high platform heard a stiff, elegant remark from the Great Queen above:
"Since you have a jade hairpin, I promised my seventh junior sister that I would spare your life for now."
Everyone turned their heads and saw that the girl in palace attire had her hair slightly askew, with a jade hairpin stuck diagonally in it.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Rong Zhen was stunned for a moment, then suddenly became angry, her beautiful face, which looked pitiful and endearing, turned into a look of anger.
It felt like... an unprecedented insult.
(End of this chapter)
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