Chương 84: chapter 80
" Except for the self, there is nothing else.
— AFTER YAN WUSHI HAD LEFT, SHEN QIAO IMPATIENTLY TRIED to force open his
acupoint. Moreover, he worried how Yan Wushi would fare if he fell into Sang Jingxing's
hands with his present wugong. The true qi within him circulated through his meridians
with excessive force for a moment, almost wanting to break out of his body. All that
filled his mind then was how his heart burned, as though it were being scorched,
before freezing over as though having fallen into a pit of ice.
His entire person became
dizzied, such that he could not even determine the passage of time around him. It was
as though he had fallen into a state that was like that of a dream, yet still very real.
Part of this was the resulting torment of his body temperature alternating between hot
and cold; another part of it was because of his mind. It was as though his
consciousness wanted more than anything to separate from his body, but because it
was still tethered to this world by a single thread. From beginning to end, it was still
firmly bound to his body, forced against its will to travel alongside the chaotic
circulation of true qi, which rushed about with such fervor that it left him nauseous and
his four limbs unbearably numb.
The first half of Shen Qiao's life passed him without much difficulty. Xuandu Mountain
was like a barrier that separated him from the dangers of the outside world.
Not only him, but all the others who resided upon Xuandu Mountain, including even
the obsessively ambitious Yu Ai. They had nearly broken away from this world, and
looked upon mortal affairs with a sort of naivete and expectation that all was fair.
However, because there was Xuandu Mountain, and because Qi Fengge had led them
and kept them away from the wind and the rain, none of them had ever paid attention
to the world beneath the mountain.
After that, however, it was as though Shen Qiao's life had been split into two halves,
with Banbu Peak delineating this split. The former half was filled with comfort and ease;
the latter with the continuous rise and billow of ocean waves.
He had experienced a number of circumstances in which death would have been a far
more preferable choice than life. He had seen both the kindness and cruelty of
humanity—and in the end, his heart possessed not the slightest hatred. But even if he
had, it had died with Guanzhu and Chuyi, the way that it had when he had taken in a
disciple named Shiwu, just the way that it had when he fought alongside Bixia Sect,
and the way that it had the moment that Yan Wushi had done this so as to ward off
Sang Jingxing, vanishing with him like that of smoke and dispersed clouds, leaving not
a trace behind.
This thought fell upon his heart like that of a cold drop of water, scattering once it
made contact with warmth.
At that moment, his mind appeared to have thoroughly removed itself from his physical
body, from the Buddha statue that sheltered him, and from the small temple, arriving
at an unknown place—a vast realm that escaped language. All types of pain gradually
vanished from his body, leaving him further unaware, yet before his eyes came a
sudden light like that from the sun and moon illuminating the mountains and ocean
from far above, or the droplets scattered by a fish leaping into an ocean wave, shining
upon the stars.
His stopped acupoint slowly opened. The true qi that flowed through his body brought
with it a warm current, returning strength to his limbs and bones that had once become
numb.
Shen Qiao felt as though he had become a fish that, with a swish of its tail, was able to
leap into the boundless universe, inundated with stars. A steady, rhythmic sound
reverberated past him—the sound of water droplets weighing down the leaves which
carried them before sliding from them impatiently and falling upon the surface of a
deep pond, shattering the surrounding tranquility.
As he raised his head to look at the world outside, he sent a ripple through the deep
and transparent waters. A profound sensation that could not be described, but only
experienced, spread through him.
The droplets of water falling into the pond seemed more like it was falling upon his
heart.
All the world shifted with it.
A severe winter transformed into a warm spring in an instant. The flowing waters
around him had even become warm and harmonious. The countless other fishes
around him had quickly swam away. With a nod of their heads and shake of their tails,
they swam further ahead in a lively manner. The moon and stars floated upon the
surface of the water in fragments, carrying its magnificent luster and dazzling light
around it beneath, resembling a part of the galaxy.
Shen Qiao closed his eyes, feeling as though he had concluded the life that he had led
with the fishes, before once more being reincarnated into a life in the expansive pool
of water, waiting every day to fill it to the brim, for the flowers that bloomed around the
pond to pour out their worries, for them to fall and seal him there, within the waters.
With the turn of one hand comes the clouds of spring; with the turn of another comes
the rains of autumn. The clear sound of a clock resonates; the flowering peach
blossoms fill the trees.
He suddenly remembered a sentence from the Zhuyang Ce:
Except for the self, there is nothing else.
Shen Qiao still remembered when he had first come upon this very line, back when his
shizun had given him his volume of the Zhuyang Ce. Although he had used the true qi
of the Zhuyang Ce to reconstruct his foundations after having fought against imminent
death, this did not mean that he thoroughly understood every sentence within the
Zhuyang Ce.
At the time, before he had come upon this sentence, he had read another: The self
that enters the mind of the other, may do as they please.
Now this, he could understand somewhat. Frankly put, when one studies
swordsmanship, they must understand jian xin, or the will of the double-edged sword.
One who studies the equivalent with a single-edged sword must understand dao xin,
the accompanying will of the single-edged sword, just as well. One must know their
enemies before they are able to come unscathed through a hundred battles.
But in this way, the "other" and the "self" will have become one. Except for the self,
there is nothing else. How can they be told apart in such a way?
Shen Qiao at first believed that this was either written erroneously, or that Tao Hongjin
himself hadn't thought about this to such an extent when he had written this.
However, at this moment, he suddenly understood the implicit meaning of this
sentence, feeling somewhat as though he had taken a roundabout path after hitting a
wall with his thinking.
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