Eternal Tale

“Benefactor, at the edge of the Heavenly River lies the Realm Boundary Battlefield. The Corrupted Longevity are impurities birthed from the creation of heaven and earth—failed entities, no longer living beings.”

“They dwell in the cracks between realms, harboring boundless malice toward living creatures. They corrupt lifespans and taint lands inch by inch with their foul blood.”

“To be slain by them means death. Killing them… costs lifespan, though one may gain the power of divine consciousness. The karma cannot be severed, and there’s no escape.”

“To break through to Divine Transformation and forge a new path, one must slay the Corrupted Longevity. Those who succeed lose at least a thousand years of their lifespan.”

The monk spoke each word with icy clarity, his previously gentle face now cold. “In the ancient war, all beings of the realm fought together—Divine Transformation cultivators down to Qi Refinement disciples—charging into battle and tearing the skies and earth apart.”

“They sought nothing but to reclaim lost lands with their lifespans and ensure eternal peace for the realm.”

“The Four Immortal Islands overseas were the final bastion of our realm. The ancients set up a grand formation there, launching a counteroffensive with their lives, driving the Corrupted Longevity back to the Heavenly River’s edge.”

“Even now, beings still guard the frontlines. The Four Immortal Islands house ancient descendants who have never left their posts as the last line of defense.”

“Yet, the Buddhist cultivators of the Great Li Realm never joined the war. They focus solely on their own path, worshipping Buddhas and basking in the incense of prosperity, bypassing the need to battle the Corrupted Longevity to advance.”

The monk clasped his hands, his tone firm. “My true obsession lies here. The power of Buddhism across the ten prefectures is vast. If they joined the war, the frontlines would gain immense reinforcement, reducing the casualties of those warriors. This would be my final, humble contribution.”

He lowered his head deeply. If that day ever came, he vowed to charge ahead, willing to die without regret.

But reality was cruel. He could change nothing and saw no glimmer of hope. Before the overwhelming tide of fate, personal cultivation and family influence were powerless. The heart of Buddhism was the most elusive of mysteries.

His words swept like a storm into the hearts of the three before him—Chen Xun, the big black ox, and the small red creature. They were left stunned, their eyes trembling, unable to speak.

To sacrifice lifespan… What kind of resolve would it take to overcome a cultivator’s greatest fear? Death might not be terrifying, but watching one’s lifespan visibly drain away was a horror far more profound.

Chen Xun stared blankly. Despite their immortality, both he and the big black ox had once endured the torment of watching life slip away. That helplessness and fear were buried deep in their hearts.

The small red creature trembled uncontrollably, its lips quivering. Lifespan was its deepest obsession and fear—it could never overcome it.

The hall remained silent for a long time.

Chen Xun eventually regained his composure, his expression calm and unshaken. “Thank you, monk, for resolving my doubts. We won’t disturb you further.”

They rose and walked outside. The evening sky was painted with vibrant clouds as strange birds screeched while soaring across the horizon.

The monk followed, stopping at the entrance. He looked up slowly, his gaze still clouded.

Chen Xun descended the steps and turned back with a smile. “May I ask the monk’s name?”

“This humble monk is Baili Fengyao, a member of the Great Li Realm’s Baili Clan.”

“And what is the Baili Clan?”

“At the edge of the Heavenly River, where songs of sorrow echo across a thousand miles and graves stretch for ten thousand miles, the realm’s forces advanced a mere hundred miles—thus, we are the Baili Clan.”

The monk’s hands once pressed together, lowered slowly. His cloudy eyes cleared, as though lit by a raging fire. “The Baili Clan are descendants of the ancient human war generals. Even now, they continue to fight on the frontlines of the Realm Boundary!”

A sudden gale swept through the Chan Yin Temple, bringing with it an indescribable aura. A surge of battle intent seemed to ignite within the monk’s blood.

The first disciple’s lantern trembled violently. He stared at his master in disbelief, shocked that such secrets were being shared with mere acquaintances.

“Moo~~” The big black ox exhaled deeply, still struggling to process these earth-shattering revelations.

”Little Red kept growling lowly, his expression strangely sly, head buried against the big black ox’s back.

Chen Xun’s gaze grew profound as he retrieved a blood-red token from his storage ring—the Warfront Battalion Emblem!

The monk’s eyes revealed no surprise. His demeanor no longer resembled a Buddhist monk, nor was it serene. His entire being exuded battle intent—a legacy flowing in his blood, inescapable and eternal.

‘So this is the monk’s true obsession. It seems I, Chen Xun, overthought that letter,’ Chen Xun remarked, locking eyes with the monk. Their auras clashed equally. ‘Baili Fengyao… Tell me, do you believe in reincarnation?’

The question startled the monk, catching him off guard. He recalled Chen Xun having asked this before. Why ask it again?

“This humble monk…”

“Monk, it’s no longer important. I already have my answer.”

Chen Xun suddenly laughed freely, cupping his hands. ‘I and Old Ox haven’t wasted our time. We’ll now go do something meaningful.”

“Moo?!”

The big black ox’s pupils contracted as he took a step back, startled by Chen Xun’s words. Memories spanning millennia surged forth like a floodgate had opened. “One-day Foundation Establishment, one month Golden Core, a peerless Heavenly Spirit Root…”

“Moo!!!” The big black ox suddenly let out a panicked cry, his breath heavy as he stared fixedly at Baili Fengyao.

“Brother Ox?” Little Red peeked out, confused and doubtful. It was his first time seeing Brother Ox so visibly shaken—not even when faced with that Divine Transformation villain.

The monk frowned slightly, glancing at Chen Xun and the big black ox. For an instant, an inexplicable unease rose in his heart, though he couldn’t decipher their meaning.

Still, he had no clear understanding of reincarnation and quickly shifted the topic. ‘Where do you intend to go, Benefactor?’

“Of course... to the Heavenly Gate, to the Heavenly River’s edge—onto the battlefield.”

“Moo!”

Chen Xun and the big black ox stood together, their auras spreading outward. A terrifying energy descended, profound and transcendent.

Though the monk knew of these matters through family history, he’d never been to the Heavenly River’s edge himself. The truth would need to be seen with one’s own eyes.

Little Red shivered, an overwhelming sense of helplessness gripping him. Could his two brothers possibly contend with Divine Transformation experts?

His eyes grew vacant. Once, he thought they wouldn’t go. Now, his words had become a self-fulfilling prophecy—they were really going!

Little Red slumped lifelessly onto the big black ox’s back. Once, he might have fled, but now he had no such thought, resigning himself to follow them to the bitter end.

“To roam free and unbound, to live in harmony with heaven and earth—this is the true essence of cultivation. Yet you, Benefactor, hold the Warfront Battalion Emblem, know the truth, and still choose this path. Perhaps this reflects the true will of our ancient ancestors. You are a man of great resolve.”

“You overthink it, monk. We lack such noble ambitions. It’s all for ourselves,” Chen Xun chuckled softly, shaking his head as he patted the big black ox and Little Red. “Baili Fengyao, I hope we meet again.”

“Brothers, let’s go!”

“Moo!!”

“Roar!!”

Boom!

A fierce cyclone surged into the sky as three figures vanished from the Chan Yin Temple, leaving only the monk and his disciple in stunned silence amidst the swirling wind.

The monk let out a faint sigh, sitting cross-legged outside the hall, gazing at the radiant evening sky. The mysterious aura that had surrounded him moments before was gone entirely.

As past memories drifted away like a gentle breeze brushing his fingertips, they left no trace behind.

His eyes filled with endless weariness and sorrow as he sighed deeply.

“I am no Buddha. I cannot save all beings, nor can I guide Benefactors. I can only pray that the dusk outside this Chan Yin Temple is bright enough. I’ve practiced Buddhism for centuries, but my stubbornness remains—ridiculous, lamentable…”

“Master.”

“All we can do is wait. Whether that answer will come, who knows?”

“Understood.”

Their voices faded into the quiet, and the Chan Yin Temple returned to its usual tranquility.

Day after day, year after year, fallen leaves scattered, autumn rains whispered softly, and the temple exuded a bleak, elegant stillness. The only constants were the two meditating figures, unmoving through the passage of time…

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