Refuse to trample on the pride of heaven

Chapter 477 Erecting a Monument

Xie Qingwu stood a few steps away, his pupils filled with great confusion and incomprehension. Although the four of them were together, he felt out of place.

He looked at these three people with different identities and positions without saying a word. They just buried their heads and dug holes with their bare hands. Their movements were almost synchronized, and the air was filled with a heavy and tacit atmosphere.

This scene was completely unheard of in his long demonic life, and it was simply bizarre - what were they doing? Some strange human ritual? He was full of questions, feeling like an audience member who had accidentally entered a pantomime.

He crossed his arms, frowned, and had an expression that said, "Are you all sick?"

Four shallow pits were quickly formed by the three men, arranged in the quiet light and shadow of the bamboo forest.

When erecting the monument, Lin Zhengxiu watched Lu Wensheng find three pieces of bluestone of moderate size and relatively flat surface from somewhere, and carefully placed them in front of the three pits with solemn movements.

The inexplicable feeling in his heart became stronger.

He originally thought that Lu Wensheng was a man with a rare sense of righteousness, coupled with a bit of cleverness and cunning wisdom in dealing with the world, and did not look like those old-fashioned and pedantic classic upright characters.

Looking at his pair of hands that were as white as jade but now covered with mud, he was fiddling with the mud without any scruples, letting the dust stain the hem of his plain robe, and he didn't care at all that the fingertips were embedded with dark dirt. I could actually see a bit of innocence and calmness in them, almost like a child.

Lin Zhengxiu's gaze involuntarily swept over Liu Jiqian, who was silent as a shadow and willing to lean over and be covered in dust.

This world-famous exiled immortal lowered his brows and eyes at this moment, focusing only on the people around him.

Lin Zhengxiu's mind suddenly became clear, and he suddenly understood something - the person who could make Liu Jiqian, who was as cold and lonely as the bright moon hanging in the sky, willing to bow his head in the dust and silently protect him, might himself be worthy of all the purest beauty and pursuit in the world.

Lu Wensheng's handwriting is clear and powerful, engraved on the cold bluestone.

He carved very simply, only carving a person's name in the middle of each stele: Li Qinghuan, Xiao Yan, and Chen Bangyan.

No titles, no redundancy.

After carving his name, he looked at Liu Jiqian.

Liu Jiqian understood, and without saying a word, a wisp of pure sword energy condensed at his fingertips. Like a dragon, he carved a quatrain for each person below their name. Every word was as sharp as an engraving, carrying the sharpness of sword intent and the sadness of poetry, instantly giving the stone tablet a soul and becoming the finishing touch.

Li Qinghuan: He died before he could complete his holy path, but the echoes of the apricot temple still linger in the air. Half a poem of the Spring and Autumn Annals is hidden under his pen, and a river of wind and snow buries the soul of the scholar.

Xiao Yan: I throw away my fame, the golden cup shatters, I point my sword to the heavens, my blood still lingers. The seal of the marquis turns to dust, but my loyal heart still shines brightly on the mountains and rivers.

Chen Bangyan: Hot blood waters the flowers after the catastrophe, and the blue robes are no less beautiful than the red city clouds. Meteors streak across the vast night, illuminating the boundless world.

As the sword energy spread across the sky, the bamboo leaves were startled by the invisible energy and a few of them fell down, adding a bit of solemnity.

After carving, Liu Jiqian retracted his fingers. The coldness lingered on his fingertips, but the inscription was already written in iron and silver, penetrating the stone with force, carrying a sense of awe-inspiring sword energy and remembrance.

The stone tablet stood up, and the poems shone with a cold luster under the shadows of bamboo.

"Chen Bangyan?" He was sure that there was no such person in his memory. To him, except Lin Zhuxuan, all the living beings in this world were like passing clouds, not worth his time and effort to remember them.

"A friend in the formation."

Lu Wensheng's answer was equally concise, his voice calm, his eyes fixed on the three words "Chen Bangyan", as if he could see through the stone tablet to the scholar who remained sincere in his heart in the desperate situation - these six simple words were enough to define the souls who met in a situation where death was inevitable, and the brief intersection was worth remembering.

Isn’t Lu Wensheng’s circle of friends a bit too broad?

Lin Zhengxiu's lips curled slightly, and some harsh words almost blurted out - the fate of those people was already predetermined, like puppets walking towards a predetermined end. In this doomed tragedy, what real friends can you still make? They are just temporary companions in an illusory bubble.

But when his eyes met the focused and calm expression of Lu Wensheng as he stroked the inscription, and then looked at Liu Jiqian's silent guarding posture beside him, and the poems full of respect and grief on the stone tablet, those harsh words were finally swallowed back by him, turning into an almost inaudible hum, and dissipated in the rustling sound of the wind in the bamboo forest.

Perhaps, this is the difference between Lu Wensheng and him.

Lin Zhengxiu knelt silently in front of the newly dug pit. The moist soil was piled beside him, emitting the fresh scent of bamboo roots. He inserted a roughly polished stone tablet deeply into the moist soil. On the stone tablet, there was only a line of deep handwriting as if it was carved with a knife or an axe - Tomb of my father Lin Zhuxuan.

"Father?" Xie Qingwu's voice suddenly sounded, with pure confusion and the logic of the demon clan, his red pupils were full of confusion, "Lin Zhuxuan is a human, a pure human clan, you are a phantom demon, the origin of your blood is the same as mine, how could he be your biological father?" Don't think that he doesn't understand, humans cannot give birth to pure-blooded demons!

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Lu Wensheng, Liu Jiqian, and Lin Zhengxiu all paused in their movements. The bamboo forest rustled, and the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Then they all pretended not to hear—what a fool.

Xie Qingwu opened his mouth and looked at the three of them who were in their own quiet world. In the end, he just shut up in disappointment, stepped aside with his arms folded, his eyes full of confusion of "you are so weird" - he was not wrong, why did these people ignore him?

Lu Wensheng looked at the three words "Lin Zhuxuan" on the tombstone and a silent sigh welled up in his heart.

This name seems so fitting now. Mr. Sun's life is like the bamboo in the forest, seemingly thin and quiet, but within it lies an indomitable vitality. Even when no one is listening, it still has its own noisy character.

He worked hard and eventually even threw his flesh and blood into the core of the devastating formation, becoming the last fuel needed to break the formation.

The weary, mortal body has long since been reduced to dust in the raging fires and torrents of the world. But what traces of the soul remain? Will those unspoken wishes, those deep concerns hidden in the heart, also be like the mist in the forest, quietly dissipating with the rising sun, leaving no trace of cloud or smoke?

Lin Zhengxiu stood up straight, and the sweat oozing from his forehead slid down his tense jaw and dripped onto the back of his hand covered in mud.

He looked at the simple stone tablet, complex emotions surging in his eyes, which eventually turned into a hint of self-deprecating bitterness.

He turned to Lu Wensheng, his voice low and hoarse: "I... after all, I don't know him that well."

He paused, and said with a solemnity that was almost like entrusting someone, "Can... you please write something for him?" There was deep sorrow and a confused look seeking understanding in the eyes that looked at Lu Wensheng.

"Okay." Lu Wensheng did not refuse and agreed straightforwardly.

He leaned over, and gathered a strand of pure spiritual power at his fingertips, replacing the carving knife and hanging it over the blank space above the stone tablet.

His fingertips fell, and spiritual energy, like the tip of a brush, carved powerful words on the bluestone: A staunch character soars to the sky, facing life and death, a single torch pierces the eternal darkness. The tears of the people are gone, and the mountains and rivers are swallowed. The heart of the grass hides the green valleys.

The first two sentences are written with vigorous strokes and majestic style.

Every word is as sharp as iron and silver, depicting Lin Zhuxuan's solitary, noble and unyielding character, which would rather break than bend like a bamboo.

However, when the last two sentences were engraved, the pen style suddenly changed, from the heroic and fierce aspirations that soared into the sky to suddenly sinking down, becoming extremely gentle, and even with a hint of imperceptible softness.

After the poem was engraved, the spiritual light on Lu Wensheng's fingertips dissipated.

He turned his head and looked at Lin Zhengxiu, who was staring at the poem beside him. A gentle smile slowly appeared on his face and his voice was soft.

"Right now, compared to those immortal praises, I think... the one thing Sir can't let go of the most is actually you."

"..."

Lin Zhengxiu's body trembled violently, as if struck by an invisible electric current.

He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple rolled violently a few times, but no sound came out.

All the defenses, all the coldness, all the indifference and self-mockery used to arm oneself were completely shattered at this moment by these understated words that went straight to the depths of the soul.

He suddenly lowered his head, trying to hide his emotions that were out of control for a moment, but his trembling shoulders and suddenly red eyes betrayed everything.

He felt his vision quickly become blurred, and the scalding water droplets could no longer be suppressed, falling heavily into the soil under his feet, leaving dark marks.

The wind from the bamboo forest blew through his drooping hair, but it could not wipe away the sorrow and belated realization that surged in and almost drowned him.

After a long moment, Lin Zhengxiu wiped his face fiercely with his sleeve. When he raised his head, his eyes were still red, but the look in them was different. It held immense sorrow, yet also ignited an unprecedented resolve.

He looked at Lu Wensheng, his voice still a little hoarse from sobbing, but very clear:

"I've made up my mind." He paused, his eyes sweeping over Lin Zhuxuan's tombstone, as if drawing strength from it. "Inherit his will and enter the mortal world."

"I will carry Mr. Master's books, walk the path he walked, and visit the mortal world he cared about—opening an academy, teaching children, and teaching them to read and understand reason. I will carry on Mr. Master's unfinished work; I will walk the path he left untold. His will... I will carry it on for him."

Xie Qingwu stood aside, his brows furrowed in confusion again.

He looked at the almost burning light of determination in Lin Zhengxiu's eyes, and listened to words like "inheriting the will" and "entering the mortal world", with pure confusion in his pupils.

Is there really someone who is willing to change the trajectory of his or her long life for the sake of another person's will, and to follow the other person's unfinished path, even at the cost of his or her entire life?

In particular, Zhengxiu, like him, is a phantom demon with a long history.

The life of a mortal is but a fleeting moment like the morning dew in their almost eternal river of time.

Is the trace of the human named Lin Zhuxuan's existence and his will really worth an immortal to spend endless time in the future pursuing and protecting?

He couldn't understand.

He only felt that Lin Zhengxiu today was completely changed by a complex force called "love" that he could not analyze.

He didn't know that in the future, Lin Zhengxiu would be guided by the love that he had planted today, which was deep in his bones, and would persistently salvage the long-disappeared shadow left by Lin Zhuxuan's soul in the bottomless abyss of time, year after year.

Just like, there is always new, white snow, falling silently, covering the old snow.

Layer after layer, it buries the past and also precipitates the everlasting longing.