Chapter 129
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“Haha!”
The old man shook his white head and laughed, his expression calm as he leaned against the wall. His gaze passed over the Daoist’s head, landing on the motes of dust dancing in the beam of sunlight shining into the prison.
“If this old man wished to leave, all I’d need to do is lower my head. But my neck’s a bit stiff—no matter what, it just won’t bend.”
“But if you stay, you might be beheaded…”
Zuo Zhengyang had mentioned the situation earlier. The Daoist couldn’t help but ask: “Is it truly the emperor’s wrath that has fallen on you? If so, I too shall follow Old Lu’s example and smash the Golden Luan Hall!”
“Beheading? This old man wouldn’t even bat an eye.”
Lowering his gaze, the old man looked at him. After a moment, he finally answered.
“It is, and yet it isn’t.”
As he spoke, Wang Shuhua braced himself against the wall and slowly stood up.
“Had I known Liangsheng would go and smash the Golden Luan Hall, perhaps I would’ve stopped him. But now that it’s been done, this old man can only shout ‘Well done!’ Little Daoist, you likely don’t understand the weight behind those actions.”
With a smile, the old man began to pace within the cell, glancing toward Zuo Zhengyang at the door, and at the sunlight filtering through the small window.
“When the sovereign is wise, the minister dies without regret. When the sovereign is muddled, the minister dies in remonstration to guide those who come after. Liangsheng spoke out for the people of Heliang Prefecture—that is what scholars such as we are meant to do. If such righteousness leads to humiliation, how can I, as his teacher, remain unmoved?
Furthermore, the livelihoods of countless souls in Heliang Prefecture now hinge on the whim of a single ruler—how can we scholars turn a blind eye? The court is choked with foul miasma, filled with flatterers and sycophants. If we, the scholars, continue in silence, then that would indeed be a sign of the kingdom’s doom.”
Sun Yingxian listened with forced patience, but in the end, he couldn’t hold back and slammed a fist against the wall.
“Then let it be doomed! The north still stands as Huaxia, doesn’t it? If all were unified, wouldn’t that be better anyway?”
Hearing such words, Wang Shuhua chuckled.
“I was born in Southern Chen, and raised in Southern Chen. Here I have passed on my learning for decades now… I’ve watched countless common folk live their lives, watched buildings rise from the ground, watched cities grow from barren earth into thriving hubs—there is deep feeling here.”
Zuo Zhengyang, standing at the doorway, was quietly moved. As a man of martial pursuits, he was not one given to subtle emotions, nor had he ever thought so deeply. Yet upon hearing these words, something stirred within his heart, something hard to describe.
“So the old gentleman will stay here, just like this?” It was the first time Sun Yingxian had changed the way he addressed the man.
Within the dust and light, the old man let out a long, somewhat wistful sigh.
“So I won’t leave… This old man has lived to this age and seen through much. Though my mind is filled with the words of sages, one cannot simply spout them at every turn—would that not make me a pedantic scholar? Don’t you agree, Little Daoist?”
“…When the moment truly comes to die, we scholars must not retreat. The moment we do, our scholarly backbone is lost. That is why I charged into the Golden Hall—to remonstrate for the lives of the masses, to argue for the injustice suffered by my disciple Liangsheng! And to set an example for those who will follow.”
The old man’s words rang out, firm and powerful.
The prison cell fell silent. Even the cries and wails from nearby gradually quieted. Sun Yingxian, unable to bear the weight of the stillness, went forward, grasped the old man’s arm, and tried to pull him toward the wall.
“In that case, this Daoist will all the more take you away!”
Just as Zuo Zhengyang cried out, “You mustn’t!”, Wang Shuhua shook off the Daoist’s hand. Then, he reached forward again and gently held it, his gaze calm and steady.
“This old man does not fear death, and to die thus is as it should be. But in my heart, I still worry for Liangsheng. I fear that this blow will break his spirit entirely. Little Daoist, I have one matter to entrust to you.”
As he spoke, under the gaze of the two men, Wang Shuhua tore off a strip from the sleeve of his prison garment with a rip, laid it out on the ground, bit his finger, and began writing.
The Daoist leaned in and glanced at it, then slowly closed his eyes.
Dark crimson blood seeped into the coarse cloth.
Liangsheng:
Your teacher prays for your peace…
Sunlight slanted through the prison cell. Not long after, the strip of cloth covered in blood-red characters was carefully folded, and the old man placed it into the Daoist’s hands.
In the time that followed, Wang Shuhua chatted endlessly with the Daoist and Zuo Zhengyang, recounting in detail what had transpired when he entered the Golden Hall to face the emperor. At one point, he burst into hearty laughter.
“…His Majesty was stubborn beyond compare, so this old man spat right in his face—— Hahahaha!!”
As day turned to dusk, the sunlight faded into a reddish haze. Sun Yingxian walked out of the prison and lingered in the city for several days. He saw Min Changwen driven away from the palace several times. On the day of the execution, he saw that old man—his hair and beard white as snow—standing tall and straight on the execution ground. “We scholars—how could we possibly fear death—!”
The moment the cloth was pulled from his mouth, his voice thundered across the field.
After witnessing the entire scene, Sun Yingxian tucked that letter away and headed toward the northwest of the capital. Since there was no one at home, Lu Liangsheng had surely gone to Heliang Prefecture.
“Sigh… How am I even supposed to tell him all this…”
During his occasional rests, Sun Yingxian often recalled that day’s scene. In his heart, he kept wondering—how could there be such a person in this world? Someone like that… was even more unconventional than a cultivator. Perhaps it was not just one, but a group of such people.
“Let’s hope Old Lu doesn’t end up becoming like Master Shuhua…”
“My Buddha… has mercy!”
Just as he murmured those words, a distant chant of the Buddha’s name floated through the air. The Daoist turned his head and looked—A rotund monk was walking toward him from afar, several young children following at his side.
“Master Fajing, you haven’t returned to your monastery yet?”
After that episode in the capital, he had once again returned to his usual cheeky, grinning self. He stepped forward and gave the fat monk’s belly a hearty pat.
“There’s hardly anything to eat over there, and yet you don’t look the least bit skinnier.”
Just then, Sun Yingxian also took notice of one of the children following behind the monk — a boy with brown and blue eyes. Something about him called to mind Lu Liangsheng in those earlier days, and he couldn’t help but give him a second look.
“An innate spiritual root?”
“This child, his family met with calamity—killed by bandits. He refuses to accept the local authorities’ arrangement. This humble monk, had no choice, but to bring him back, to Ten Thousand Buddha Monastery.”
As he spoke, he reached out to pat the boy’s head, but the child turned away, ducked to the side, and stepped back with a cold expression.
“I won’t let anyone from South Chen arrange anything for me. It was obviously them who killed my parents!”
As he spoke, he glared fiercely at Fajing.
“And I won’t become a monk either!”
Sun Yingxian let out a laugh, withdrew his gaze, and gave the fat monk’s belly another slap. “This kid’s really extreme. Doesn’t even understand what happened, and already he’s blaming the authorities for killing his parents.”
At that, the fat monk just shook his head with a sigh.
“Let us hope… the Buddha’s teachings… can dispel… the resentment in his heart. By the way… this humble monk came… specifically to find you… Daoist Sun. Back in Heliang Prefecture… this humble monk met… with Daoist Lu. He asked me… to tell you… he has gone to… Northern Zhou.”
Northern Zhou?
That far?!
The Daoist didn’t linger to exchange more idle chatter with the fat monk. With a quick cupped-fist salute, he hastily activated a Swiftstride Talisman, kicking up a swirl of dust as he shot forward like a gust of wind. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished down the road ahead, leaving the group of children gasping and exclaiming in awe.
Fajing offered a solemn bow to the Buddha, shook his head, and turned to lead the group of children northward. They, too, would be crossing rivers and mountains—bound for the land once known as Northern Qi.
As the sky slowly turned and drifting clouds moved northward, Lu Liangsheng, at that very moment, had already led his old donkey into Chaoning Prefecture.
