The Rise of the Sword: Chapter 124 - In the Prime of Youth

The Pilgrimage Terrace is situated to the northeast of the Taiji Palace. While it appears to be a mere stone platform, barely ten feet high and built from Heaven-Mystic stones, it actually conforms to the mathematical principles of the Fuxi Eight Trigrams: Heaven and Earth, Wind and Thunder, Water and Fire, Mountain and Marsh.

At high noon, the sun hung directly overhead, and the sky was devoid of clouds—a celestial alignment characteristic of the esoteric arts of Qi Men Dun Jia. Su Ye looked up, the dazzling light of the golden crow filling his vision. Amidst the brilliant radiance of the horizon, he saw through the "Heart-Questioning Trial" more clearly than ever before.

His journey to the Cloud Capital held no further harsh tests. Fate had already completed its inquiry into his heart during his long pilgrimage. The wind, which had first stirred on the small cliff behind Peach Blossom Mountain, now sent only ripples across his consciousness, leaving no further turmoil in its wake. The naive village boy had shed his shell, transforming into a practitioner capable of bearing great responsibility. He knew exactly what he had to do next.

Only one person stood beside the Pilgrimage Terrace: Qin Qingyu, the same man who had once vied with him in the art of alchemy at the Imperial Study.

"I warned the Emperor long ago that you should be forbidden from ever setting foot in the Cloud Capital," Qin Qingyu said, smiling with a softness that surpassed any woman's, though his tone was grating. "Yet, as the Heavenly Dao has revealed, all is guided by fate. In the end, you are still destined to tear a hole in the heavens."

Su Ye stopped and turned to look at Qin Qingyu, revealing a smile as radiant as the sun. "We shall see when the time comes."

Two distinct voices—yet identical words—overlapped and then diverged within Qin Qingyu's consciousness. Watching Su Ye ascend the stone steps, his robes fluttering in the wind, Qin Qingyu was struck by a fleeting sense of Xiao Qian’s own carefree ease.

"No wonder..." Qin Qingyu withdrew his gaze, a look of relief washing over his face.

Stepping onto the wide, twenty-five-square-foot platform, Su Ye saw the carvings of the sun, moon, stars, and the four guardian beasts. In an instant, the world expanded before his eyes. He gazed left and right, as if returned to that day when he had performed the Mercy Soul-Guiding Rite and the Ten-Direction Dream Realm to save Luo Jinghong from her wandering soul state.

Amidst the brilliant nebula, it seemed as if sentient beings were hidden within. In his mortal form, he should have had no possibility of meeting the Three Ancestors, yet he walked to the center of the terrace, sat cross-legged, and performed his four self-created arts in sequence.

Slowly opening his eyes, he saw three holy, sun-like glows manifesting in his vision. High above, the golden manifestations of the Ancestors of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism spanned the heavens and the earth.

The Buddha’s voice resonated: "Su Ye, because of your resolve to accept your fate, the centuries-long tribulation of the Buddhist sect has ended. With the cycle of cause and effect complete, you may serve as a Protector of the Dharma."

A golden light drifted down from the horizon, enveloping Su Ye. Supreme Buddhist power flowed through his meridians, eventually gathering in his spiritual apertures. Every Buddhist scripture he had ever read now yielded a deeper understanding.

As the three golden figures rotated, the Confucian Ancestor faced him directly. "Su Ye, having traveled over mountains and rivers, witnessing the state of the world and the hearts of men, do you still believe that Confucianism is merely the Way of the Mean?"

Su Ye answered fluently: "My pursuit has found its answer. When the Great Dao is practiced, the world belongs to the public."

"The three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, along with the Hundred Schools of Thought, all have their own virtues, yet none can depart from the principle of 'Goodness.' Your actions may occasionally defy convention, but your heart is filled with righteousness, and thus, you are beyond reproach."

Su Ye’s voice arose from his consciousness, and he closed his eyes. "The Heavenly Dao is a cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death... within this life and death, there must be good and evil. Righteousness can never be fully purged, nor can evil be completely extinguished. Both arise from the heart; as long as the heart exists, good and evil will be born."

"The highest ideal of Confucianism is the absence of evil," the Confucian Ancestor said with solemn gravity.

"Even after transcending to immortality, every immortal retains a strong personality. The friction between them, the resulting struggles—these too will give rise to good and evil. 'No evil,' 'no action,' and 'no self' are ideals for saints, not for the people of the world."

"Are you saying... the highest realm is but empty talk?"

"That is not my meaning," Su Ye replied, neither humble nor arrogant. "Those who reach the highest ideals of the three teachings are saints. Yet, there are few saints in this world, and many commoners."

"Are you a saint, or a commoner?"

"I only envy the mandarin ducks... I do not envy the immortals."

"If judged by merit, you are a true saint. If judged by your heart, even if you ascend to the immortal realm, you will remain an immortal of the mortal world."

"I ask for little: peace under heaven, mastery over supreme powers to protect the common people. If I receive even a few sticks of incense, my heart is satisfied. Even if no one ever worships me, my heart will not change."

"Hold fast to your original intent and never forget it..." The Confucian Ancestor extended a golden hand of infinite size, gently stroking Su Ye’s head.

The power to command the heart flowed like a gentle stream into his consciousness, followed by two final admonitions from the Ancestor: "Preparedness ensures success; lack of it brings failure. The past cannot be corrected, but the future can still be redeemed."

Su Ye pressed his palms together respectfully. "I will strictly follow the teachings of the Confucian Ancestor."

The three golden figures rotated once more. A golden light blossomed before Su Ye, and the phantom formed by the Daoist Ancestor of No-Form stood before him.

Su Zhenshan stood there, smiling, his eyes filled with pride and comfort. "Little Ye, seeing you as you are now, your grandfather is very happy." Even his voice was exactly as he remembered.

Su Ye’s tranquil consciousness surged like a tidal wave. Su Zhenshan sat down cross-legged. "You have grown into a man with your own convictions. I will not lecture you on principles; I only want you to know... from childhood to now, you have always been your grandfather's pride."

Su Ye had expected to be moved to tears, but he felt strangely calm. He realized more clearly than ever that he was a man who stood tall between heaven and earth.

"Grandfather, if I may say so, you mistook a bawdy folk song for a famous melody of the Central Plains," Su Ye said with a smile.

"Does that matter?" Su Zhenshan looked at him, smiling.

"It does not." What truly mattered was the way he carried him on his back when he was tired... the fish and shrimp he saved for him while going hungry himself... the tireless waving of the cattail fan on summer nights...

"I was just a common man, selling mountain goods to raise my precious grandson," Su Zhenshan laughed. "And look at you, about to become a savior."

"Perhaps this was destined from the day I was born. I..."

"You are not the reincarnation of an Emperor, nor the rebirth of a saint. You are simply you—a mortal born by chance into this dusty world, with a talent that is but a fleeting blossom."

"And here I was, hoping to gild my resume... turns out, the Su family doesn't have that kind of luck," Su Ye laughed brightly.

Su Zhenshan beamed. "You don't need to borrow the strength of others... you are the one who can change the fate of the Su family."

"It seems... I have no choice but to be this savior."

"If you hadn't made up your mind, the Daoist Ancestor would not have used his supreme power to summon my lingering soul here."

"I thought..."

"...that I was the Daoist Ancestor?" Su Zhenshan’s face crinkled with laughter. "Grandfather doesn't have such great abilities. Raising you to adulthood exhausted all my strength. I wouldn't even dare to dream of being the Daoist Ancestor."

"I will be the Daoist Ancestor," Su Ye said, as if returned to the days of his youth. He did not care that the Three Ancestors were listening to his heart. He would say what he wanted to say and do what he wanted to do.

"If you become the strongest in the Daoist tradition, with achievements spanning the universe and a name that shakes the ages, it is not impossible for you to become the Daoist Ancestor," Su Zhenshan said, looking at him. "But no matter the goal, you must strive with all your might. Only then can you live a life without regrets."

"Grandfather... is there really an afterlife?"

"If you believe, there is; if you do not, there is not," Su Zhenshan smiled. "I feel your resolve. For you, there may not be an afterlife."

"I do indeed plan to become an immortal in this life."

"With such poor aptitude, yet daring to talk of becoming an immortal. You are truly my grandson."

"There is one more thing, the most important," Su Ye said, his eyes filled with a smile.

"A lifelong commitment?" Su Zhenshan laughed.

"I have pledged my life to the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Good... that is good..."

Su Zhenshan’s soul, now without regrets, gradually faded away. The conversation between grandfather and grandson finally settled into the dust of the mortal world.

Su Ye felt no more confusion. He retracted his four arts and returned to reality. He stood up, walked down the Pilgrimage Terrace, and began to sing as he walked:

"Strike the drums and beat the gongs, stop the music to hear my song... the old hear the 'Eighteen Touches,' and the young have walked that path before. The youth hears the 'Eighteen Touches,' and dreams of flowers and weeping wives..."

"You are singing... lewd songs on the Pilgrimage Terrace?" Qin Qingyu was both shocked and furious.

Su Ye turned to look at the handsome and delicate official of the Imperial Observatory and grinned. "And what of it?"

Before his voice had faded, the golden figures of the Three Ancestors manifested in the sky, instantly suppressing Qin Qingyu, who was about to strike.

"Eighteen years ago, the heavens showed an omen," Su Ye’s voice contained an irrepressible openness and ease. "Eighteen years later, the heavens show an omen again..."

His thoughts were clear, echoing ethereally through his consciousness.

"Who dares say that a mortal cannot become an immortal?"

Heart-Questioning.
Spirit-Concealing.
...
This year, Su Ye was eighteen.
In the prime of his life.