Chapter 570.2: The Past is Nothing But a Memory - Part 2

Deercry Monastery, in a small temple at the back of the mountain.

These days, the old monk perhaps felt too stifled staying in the temple, so he simply sat on the doorstep. Today's sunlight was pleasant, a rare warm spring day. But even as the warm rays fell on the old monk's face, they couldn't illuminate the deep lines etched there. Those things hidden within his wrinkles remained forever shrouded in darkness.

Under the sunlight, the old monk's dust-covered robes had specks of dust dancing in the air. He lowered his head to look, but his turbid eyes showed no emotion.

The old monk narrowed his eyes slightly, looking up at the warm sun in the sky. Actually, cultivators had a different name for the sun, they called it celestial star.

However, a more widespread term among the common populace was simply “the sun,” while “celestial star” was a phrase only found in the memories of older cultivators and ancient texts.

The old monk sat on the doorstep for a while before he vaguely noticed a figure clad in black walking over from the distance.

This sight caused the old monk who had lived for countless years to fall into a brief trance. Most of his life had been spent in this small temple without friends. Perhaps he had friends once, but they had long since passed before him. He had no disciples either. Though he occasionally gave guidance to some monks in the temple, there was never an official master-disciple relationship. The one person he had truly regarded as a disciple was the Nation Teacher of Great Liang, who was called the “Demon Monk.” Yet, even they never had the official relationship of master and disciple. Now, many years have passed since that Great Liang Nation Teacher's time.

That once-young monk also liked to wear black robes.

Now, he was once again seeing a young monk who liked to wear black.

In an instant, countless stories from the past flooded the old monk's mind, and he could not help but let out a sigh.

The young monk came before the shrine, slowed his footsteps, and respectfully bowed to the old monk in front of him.

The old monk was the oldest and most senior person in Deercry Monastery. No matter who came before him, they were all juniors in his eyes.

The old monk opened his turbid eyes and gazed at the young monk without saying a word.

The two monks, one old and one young, locked eyes for a long time.

Finally, the old monk sighed deeply and said, “Since you chose the worldly Zen, seeking a fresh start, why have you changed your mind? Cultivation isn't easy. To walk the same road again, do you not find it tedious?”

The young monk smiled and asked, "You've walked this path for so long, what scenery did you see at the end?"

The old monk sighed, "The Great Dao is endless. Who dares claim they've reached the end?"

"Then haven't you considered that this path might be wrong?" The young monk smiled and said, "Maybe it was wrong from the start, so no matter how far you walk, you'll never reach the end."

The old monk replied, "How long have you even lived to say something like that?"

He did not want to be tainted by this karma.

No one knew how long had passed when the old monk finally withdrew his hand. The wind began to flow again, distant birds resumed their singing, and the fallen leaves drifted to the ground.

The old monk let out a sigh, "Since our paths are different, why listen to my Zen? I have no Zen left to share with you."

The young monk slowly lifted his head and said softly, "In that case, I ask you to cripple all of this disciple's cultivation."

The old monk looked at him and said, "Are you sure you want to start over, leaving no way back?"

The young monk nodded lightly and said softly, "Without destruction, there can be no rebirth."

The old monk was silent for a long time before saying, "I've seen many young people, but they've all died."

It was an interesting remark, yet a bit perplexing.

The young monk said, "Dying on the path isn't a disgrace."

Hearing these words, the old monk made no further attempt to dissuade him. He cast one last glance at the young monk.

The young monk's brows furrowed slightly, and then a trace of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His body trembled violently, nearly collapsing to the ground.

After a moment, the young monk slowly straightened up and solemnly kowtowed three times to the old monk.

Then, struggling to his feet, he said softly, "I hope we never meet again in this lifetime."

The old monk said nothing.

The young monk turned and slowly walked away.

Step by step, he walked with great difficulty.

The old monk glanced up at the celestial star in the sky, but said nothing.

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