Eternal Tale

Chapter 265: A Thousand Miles of Lament, Ten Thousand Tombs

“Patron, at the edge of the Celestial River lies the War Realm. The corrupted lifespan creatures are abominations born of the failures of creation, entities born in the primordial chaos. They are no longer living beings.”

“These creatures exist within the crevices between realms, bearing a deep-seated malice toward all life. They can corrupt life spans and taint the land, inch by inch, with their foul blood.”

“If they kill you, you lose your life. If you kill them… you lose your lifespan, but you gain divine sense power. The cycle of karma remains unbroken, and there is no escape.”

“To break through to the Deity Transformation stage and forge a path forward, one must slay the corrupted. Those who manage to ascend lose at least a thousand years of their lifespan…”

The abbot spoke with deliberate precision, his once-gentle face turning cold and solemn. “In the ancient war, every living being of our realm joined the battle. From Deity Transformation cultivators to Qi Refinement disciples, they charged forth, causing the heavens to shake and the earth to crumble.”

“They fought not for personal gain, but to reclaim the lost land and protect the peace of our realm for all generations to come.”

“The four immortal mountains beyond the sea are the last fortress of our realm. The ancient ancestors laid down the grand formation there, and all beings of the ancient world advanced from that point, inch by inch, driving the corrupted lifespan creatures back to the edge of the Celestial River.”

“Even today, our realm’s frontline is still manned by these ancient descendants. The four immortal mountains house the remnants of the ancients, guarding the final line of defense for our world.”

“Yet the Buddhist cultivators of Da Li never joined the fight. They only pursue their own path, worshiping their Buddhas, basking in the incense of prosperity, and never relying on the corrupted to ascend.”

The abbot’s face darkened with sorrow. “My true conviction, patron, is this: if the immense power of the Buddhist sects could be directed toward the battlefield, our realm would gain a powerful ally, and the warriors on the front lines would suffer fewer losses. This is the last meager effort I can offer.”

The abbot clasped his hands together and bowed deeply. If he could witness that day, he would charge into battle without hesitation, even if it cost him his life.

But the reality was harsh. He could change nothing and saw no hope. Personal cultivation and family power meant little in the face of true destiny. The will of the Buddha was the most elusive thing of all.

As the abbot’s words fell, they crashed into the minds of the three figures standing before him like a spiritual storm.

Chen Xun, Black Ox, and Xiao Chi were left stunned, their eyes trembling, unable to speak.

To cut one’s lifespan… what kind of courage did it take to overcome the greatest fear of any cultivator? Death itself was sometimes not the scariest part; it was the slow, visible erosion of life that truly terrified people.

Chen Xun’s eyes glazed over. He and Black Ox, who had achieved immortality, had experienced the slow, visible decay of life in others. That helplessness and terror still lingered in their hearts.

Xiao Chi’s lips quivered, and his body shook uncontrollably. Lifespan was his deepest fear and obsession, something he couldn’t possibly overcome.

The hall remained quiet for a long time.

Chen Xun finally calmed himself, his face composed and serene. “Thank you, Abbot, for your explanation. We won’t disturb you any longer.”

They stood and walked out, where the sky outside was painted with the vibrant hues of dusk. Strange birds soared across the heavens, letting out piercing cries.

The abbot followed them to the doorway and stood, raising his gaze slowly, his eyes still clouded with age.

Chen Xun turned at the bottom of the temple steps, smiling. “May I ask for the abbot’s name?”

“I am Bai Li Fengyao, a member of the Bai Li clan of Da Li.”

“And what is the Bai Li clan?”

“At the edge of the Celestial River, a thousand miles of lament and ten thousand tombs. For every hundred miles we advance, that is my Bai Li clan.”

The abbot’s clasped hands lowered, and his cloudy eyes grew clear as flames of battle flickered within them. “The Bai Li clan are descendants of the ancient human generals of the War Realm Camp. To this day, they still fight on the front lines of the realm!”

A gust of wind swept through Chan Yin Temple, and an inexplicable energy surged from all directions. Battle intent seemed to rise within the abbot, as though his very blood burned with it.

The senior disciple’s lantern began to shake violently. He looked at his master in disbelief, eyes wide with shock, not understanding why the abbot was revealing such truths to mere acquaintances.

“Moo~~” Black Ox snorted heavily. These earth-shattering secrets were still hard to digest.

Xiao Chi was growling softly, his face twisted with disbelief, his head buried deep into Black Ox’s back.

Chen Xun’s eyes deepened as he retrieved a blood-red token from his storage ring. It was the War Realm Camp’s emblem!

The abbot’s expression remained unsurprised. He no longer looked like a serene monk, but a man filled with battle spirit—a warrior whose bloodline carried an eternal legacy of combat.

“So, this is the abbot’s true conviction. It seems I worried too much about that letter,” Chen Xun said, locking eyes with the abbot, their auras clashing.

“Bai Li Fengyao… Do you believe in reincarnation?” Chen Xun’s question left the abbot momentarily stunned. He recalled Chen Xun asking this before, yet here it was again…

“The old monk…”

“Abbot, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve already found my answer.”

Chen Xun suddenly smiled, carefree, and clasped his hands together in a gesture of farewell. “Neither Old Ox nor I have wasted our time. We’ll soon embark on something meaningful.”

“Moo?!”

Black Ox’s pupils shrank, and he stumbled backward in shock. His thousand-year-old memories burst forth as if a floodgate had opened— "One day to reach Foundation Establishment, one month to Golden Core, a peerless Heavenly Spirit Root…"

“Moo!!!” Black Ox cried out, snorting furiously as he fixed his gaze on Bai Li Fengyao.

“Brother Ox?” Xiao Chi peered out, his eyes filled with confusion. He had never seen Brother Ox so shaken before, not even when they had faced that Deity Transformation villain.

The abbot furrowed his brow, watching Chen Xun and Black Ox. In that brief moment, he felt a strange sense of unease but couldn’t grasp its meaning.

“Where are you heading, patron?” the abbot asked, shifting the conversation.

“Of course… we’re going to the Heavenly Gate, to the Celestial River’s edge, to the battlefield.”

“Moo!”

Chen Xun and Black Ox stood together, their auras swelling. A terrifying presence began to fill the space around them, growing deeper and more profound.

The abbot’s words may have been passed down through his family, but he had never been to the Celestial River’s edge himself. The truth could only be confirmed by witnessing it with their own eyes.

Xiao Chi shivered, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of helplessness and death. Could his two elder brothers actually contend with Deity Transformation cultivators…?

His eyes turned vacant. At first, he had thought they wouldn’t go, but now, it was clear that they were determined to venture there!

Xiao Chi collapsed weakly onto Black Ox’s back. There was no longer any thought of escape in his mind; he would follow them to the very end.

“To live freely, unfettered by the heavens and earth—that is the true meaning of cultivation. But now that you hold the War Realm Camp’s token and know the truth, perhaps this is the legacy left behind by our realm’s ancestors. You are truly people of great resolve, patron.”

“Abbot, you think too highly of us. We don’t have such lofty ambitions. Everything we do is for ourselves.”

Chen Xun chuckled lightly, shaking his head. He patted Black Ox and Xiao Chi. “Bai Li Fengyao, I hope we meet again.”

“Brothers, let’s go!”

“Moo!!”

“Roar!!”

Boom!

A powerful gust of wind shot into the sky as the three figures vanished from Chan Yin Temple, leaving the abbot and his disciple standing amidst the swirling air.

The abbot let out a soft sigh, sitting down outside the temple, gazing at the colorful evening sky. The strange aura that had filled him was gone.

When the memories of the past turn into the faint breeze that slips through one’s fingers, they leave no trace behind.

His eyes clouded once again with sorrow, and he muttered softly:

“I am not a Buddha. I cannot save all beings, nor can I redeem the patron. All I can do is hope that the twilight beyond Chan Yin Temple burns bright enough. After hundreds of years of practicing Buddhism, I’ve been too stubborn… how laughable, how pitiful…”

“Master.”

“All we can do now is wait. Perhaps the answer will come.”

“Yes, Master.”

The two voices grew quieter and quieter, as Chan Yin Temple returned to its usual tranquility.

Day after day, year after year, fallen leaves scattered through the temple, and autumn rains echoed softly, filling the air with a faint sense of melancholy. The only constant was the two figures sitting in silent contemplation, unmoving…