Chapter 231: To What Extent Must One Reach
Chapter 231: To What Extent Must One Reach
A leaf fell from the tree in the courtyard with the wind. It landed on his shoulder, then slid to the ground.
Zhang Xiaoqi lowered his head and looked at the fallen leaf.
Many doubts filled his eyes. Right then, he grasped what truly climbing this mountain meant.
“Rustle…”
The leaves rustled. Zhang Xiaoqi snapped out of his daze and asked, “If I go… can I come back?”
Chen Changsheng looked at him and said, “Perhaps you can still come back.”
Zhang Xiaoqi turned to the Divine Crane and asked, “Really?”
The Divine Crane hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
But it was still just a perhaps.
Yet this journey was long and perilous, crossing the Desolate Sea and passing towering mountains. Returning would be incredibly difficult. Moreover, once within the Daoist Sect’s gates, time would no longer pass year by year…
Zhang Xiaoqi seemed to understand a little. He turned back to the Green-Robed Gentleman and asked, “If I go, what about my dad and mom?”
“Life will go on as before,” Chen Changsheng said.
“Is that so…”
Zhang Xiaoqi looked toward the distant Green Mountain veiled by floating clouds. His gaze seemed to pierce the clouds to glimpse the mountain reaching above them.
Yet he suddenly lowered his head again, staring down at the bustling Autumn Moon Market.
In the ensuing long silence,
Zhang Xiaoqi withdrew his gaze and asked,
“Can I go down the mountain?”
Chen Changsheng paused inwardly, then nodded. “You can.”
Zhang Xiaoqi started walking. The moment he got the answer, he bolted outwards.
He suddenly stopped in his tracks, turned his head for one last look at the white crane and the man in green robes in the courtyard, but quickly turned back around and sprinted downhill.
Moyuan, witnessing him run out of the Taoist Temple, arrived at the temple gate. His eyes followed the teen stumbling down the mountain path.
Moyuan shook his head with a sigh, his gaze turning to the horizon.
“Humans desperately seek what they cannot grasp, yet some flee in haste as if fleeing. The mortal world is truly fascinating.”
…
Zhang Xiaoqi stumbled and fell on the slope below. The skin on his palm tore, blood oozing out.
He scrambled to his feet. Ignoring where he was hurt, he ran towards his home.
The Autumn Moon Market was its usual self. The waiter called out customers outside the Wine Tavern. Elders chatted in the cool shade under trees. Women near the well beat laundry with sticks…
Zhang Xiaoqi arrived at the dilapidated shack by the river, shouting,
“Dad! Dad!!”
He barged into the shack, only to find the doorway empty. Panic seized Zhang Xiaoqi instantly, and he rushed towards his main house.
He panted heavily, not daring to stop for even a moment.
People saw him running frantically and occasionally asked what was wrong, but received no reply from the young man.
All that mattered now was the path ahead in his eyes.
Zhang Xiaoqi ran past the street corner where his mom usually set up her stall. Seeing the Baked Pancake stall deserted, his breath ragged, a growing unease took hold.
Clenching his jaw, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest, he raced home with desperate speed.
Bang!
Zhang Xiaoqi burst into the house.
“Mom! Dad!”
He searched frantically. But the house was empty. Only six sticks of Incense and Candles still burned before the family altar in the Ancestral Hall.
Zhang Xiaoqi’s eyes darted sideways and immediately spotted the letter placed clearly on the altar table.
His mind froze, and a sudden calm washed over him.
Step by step, his legs heavy, he approached the altar table and picked up the letter.
Slowly, he unfolded it and read the words inside.
>[My dearest son, seeing this letter is like seeing us.]
>[I am not a good dad. I wronged your mom. I wronged you even more. Because of me, you’ve both suffered so much these years.]
>[But it’s a comfort that you’ve grown up safely and well. For that, we owe everything to your mom. You’re not little anymore. It’s time you found your path. That’s why I asked Mr. Chen, the gentleman I often told you about, for this favor. Helping you onto this path is the singular thing I, your flawed dad, could do for you.]
>[I haven’t read as many books as you, so I don’t write elegant phrases well. But I once heard Mr. Chen mention something when he shared drinks with your grandfather:]
>[“A true man should harbor grand ambitions — soaring like the wild geese. Do not linger listlessly beneath others. Grasp the three-foot sword and carve out unmatched merit.”]
>[Your dad and I are leaving now. Very likely, we won’t ever return. This world is vast. Finding a place to safely rest our bones won’t be hard. Don’t worry about us. Remember to obey Mr. Chen. He offers you a path few in this world ever dream of grasping.]
>[We are gone. Don’t dwell on it. Don’t hold onto grief.]
The hand holding the letter trembled violently. A wave of darkness suddenly crashed over Zhang Xiaoqi’s vision, and he collapsed.
He lay face down in front of the Ancestral Hall. His blurred sight focused on the thin wisps of smoke rising from the incense burner.
He gasped for air, utterly spent, unable to muster the strength to rise even an inch.
Utter helplessness filled Zhang Xiaoqi’s eyes. It felt as if none of these unfolding events had ever truly been his choice.
In that moment, he deeply regretted climbing that mountain. He regretted stepping through that Daoist Sect’s gate…
If only… But there were no ‘if onlies’.
Zhang Xiaoqi’s eyes reddened. As he squeezed them shut, tears streamed silently down his cheeks, falling onto the floor.
…
As twilight approached, there was no sunset glow, only a shroud of gloom.
Moyuan leaned against the temple gate’s door frame, arms folded beneath his head as he dozed. He murmured softly, “A downpour next would cool things down nicely…”
As he muttered this, he turned slightly and spotted the young man trudging back up the mountain path.
Zhang Xiaoqi’s eyes stared emptily ahead. His clothes were torn in several places. Lifting his head, he saw Moyuan at the gate.
Moyuan offered a gentle smile. He straightened up and sat on the door’s threshold. “Why are you back?” he asked.
Zhang Xiaoqi opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure what to say.
“No need to rush inside just now. Come, sit here a moment.”
Moyuan called, motioning for him to sit beside him.
Zhang Xiaoqi hesitated. Then, he stepped forward and sat down.
Moyuan patted his shoulder. “Do you understand this is what countless people dream of finding?”
The young man shook his head. “I want my dad and mom.”
Moyuan shook his head. “This choice isn’t yours to make. Besides, the Path of Immortality demands breaking all ties to your past. Forget the life you knew. This road was paved for you long ago by your dad and mom. You will walk it, whether you want to or not.”
The boy fell silent, staring down at the hole worn through the toe of his shoe.
Moyuan said, “A perfect solution where nothing suffers is rare in this world. Your dad chose the best possible path for you.”
The young man raised his head. All the bottled-up thoughts and emotions within him suddenly erupted.
“What counts as ‘best’? And what counts as ‘worst’? Is deciding for me, arranging everything without a single question, leaving me no chance to choose… is that ‘best’?”
Moyuan replied calmly, “It’s not a choice offered to you.”
The boy opened his mouth to retort, then stopped. It was true. He had no choice.
Moyuan studied his face. “I’ve encountered countless young faces like yours. The truth is, paths chosen by yourself rarely match the clarity of the ones carefully prepared for you.”
“You want to resist? You want to fight? Fine. But for that, you need strength. The strength to command your own fate. Only when you reach such power that you can disregard any external will — the freedom to come and go as you please — will your choices truly be yours.”
Zhang Xiaoqi asked, “To what extent must one reach?”
“What extent…”
Moyuan thought for a moment, “Reaching the same heights as Mr. Chen will suffice.”