CDJMM – Volume 3 – Chapter 24 Compassion of the Buddha (Final)

How short is ten years?

For cultivators, it is but a drop in the ocean of their long lives; decades or even centuries in seclusion are nothing unusual in the cultivation world.

How long is ten years?

For mortals, ten years is enough time to raise a banner of revolt and topple a dynasty.

Le Jing held the Imperial Jade Seal in his hands, standing atop the high platform.

Not far away, the imperial herald’s voice rang out:

“…We, as the sovereign of China, since the Liang fortune has come to its end, Heaven’s mandate descended upon a True Immortal in the wilderness, who entered China to become the master of all under heaven… We were originally a commoner, yet through the care of an immortal and the blessings of our ancestors, we seized the autumn of contending heroes and gathered the worthy at our side…

Now the civil and military officials, hundreds of bureaus, and all the people earnestly beseech Us to ascend as Emperor, to preside over the black-haired masses…

We hereby establish the name of the realm as Great Chu, the reign title Pingkang…

Let this be proclaimed under Heaven, that all may know.”

Clad in a dragon robe, the man ascended step by step with the support of the palace attendants. Under the watchful eyes of the civil and military court, he slowly approached the high platform—approaching Le Jing.

Eight years had passed since he first met this man.

Much had happened in these eight years.

The Great Liang had finally fallen—but it wasn’t destroyed by the demon clans, nor by the steppe tribes. It was toppled by the peasant uprising armies.

The man before him was the leader of one such rebel force. He had led his troops across the land in countless battles, ultimately sounding the death knell of Great Liang with his own hands.

Emperor Pingkang—Han Yong—walked toward the immortal on the high platform, his thoughts churning.

Ten years had passed; streaks of white now touched his temples. Yet the immortal’s appearance hadn’t changed in the slightest—still the same youthful face as the day they first met.

Back then, he had been nothing more than a minor guard of Beihuang City—never daring to imagine the fate awaiting him.

Without the immortal, he would not be who he was today.

At first, he merely wished to repay the immortal’s kindness. So he shamelessly clung to him, hoping to offer even the slightest help.

How had things developed to this point?

Ah, right—because the demons and the northern tribes had colluded, attempting to swallow the Great Liang. They orchestrated a scheme of “substituting the peach with a plum”: after murdering the Liang Emperor, a demon took on his appearance, trying to deceive Heaven and seize control of the realm.

Fortunately, this scheme was uncovered by the immortals, who drove the demons back to the grasslands. But the fate of Great Liang did not improve.

Years of drought had left corpses strewn across the land. People starved, resorting even to cannibalism, while the Liang Emperor hid in his palace in drunken indulgence, ignoring the suffering of his people. Thus uprisings began to break out across the realm.

After three days and nights of hesitation, Han Yong bid farewell to the immortal and joined the rebel army.

When he next encountered the immortal, Han Yong was already a great general commanding fifty thousand men. The immortal, however, remained unchanged—noble, elegant, unmatched.

He did not know what providence he had touched upon, only that from that day on, the immortal would teach him precious knowledge from time to time—what the immortal called “Dragon-Slaying Arts.”

Though the immortal had never formally accepted him as a disciple, in Han Yong’s heart, he had always regarded the immortal as a master.

With the help of the Dragon-Slaying Arts, his forces grew, his renown among the people increased.

At last, he donned the imperial robe and became the new emperor.

If not for the immortal, he would likely have died on the battlefield long ago.

But this simply proved one thing—he truly bore Heaven’s Mandate! He was the destined star come to quell the chaos of the world!

That was why the immortal descended to aid him, why he was taught the Dragon-Slaying Arts, why he was able to topple the decayed Great Liang within ten short years, ending the chaos and creating a world where the people could eat their fill and live in warmth.

Thus, he had chosen the reign title Pingkang, hoping only for peace and well-being for all people.

He had been a commoner; only with Heaven’s favor could he rise high and build a nation. Thus he must become an emperor beloved by the people.

At last, Emperor Pingkang reached the final step and met the immortal’s glazed-glass eyes, shimmering with flowing light. He bowed deeply:

“Your disciple greets the Immortal Master.”

Le Jing nodded, lifting the Jade Seal slightly. His clear, resonant voice carried with ease:

“The useless and depraved Liang Emperor squandered the two hundred and fifty-three-year fate of the Liang.

Now, with purple qi rising from the east and the Emperor Star returning to its rightful place, you are the one Heaven has chosen.

By Heaven’s decree, I entrust the Imperial Jade Seal to you—may you usher in an age of lasting peace.”

Emperor Pingkang respectfully received the seal. A trace of pride flashed between his brows as he said:

“We shall follow the Immortal Master’s teachings.”

He turned, lifting the seal high. Below the steps, the civil and military officials lowered their heads in a grand ritual of three kneels and nine prostrations, chanting:

“Long live the Emperor! Long live, long live, long, long live…”

From afar, thunderous cheers of the common people surged like waves.

The emperor lowered his gaze. Before him stretched a sea of prostrating figures—all kneeling, all bowing. From this day forward, he was the master of all under heaven. His heart surged with emotion as he inhaled deeply.

He raised his hand, feeling more exhilarated than ever:

“Rise, all of you.”

“The ruler is the boat; the people are the water.

The water that bears a boat may also overturn it.

Today you promised them peace and prosperity. If one day you fail to deliver, these kneeling commoners will become starving wolves who will tear you to pieces and replace you.”

The clear, elegant voice sounded suddenly in his mind, sharp with killing intent. The chill within it shocked him awake from his heated triumph.

He instinctively turned—only to meet a pair of icy glazed-glass eyes. The monk’s words, mixed with the cold of ice and snow, echoed in his mind:

“You rose from the wilds and now sit above all not because Heaven favored you, but because the Liang Emperor lost the hearts of the people. The world has long suffered under Liang.

It was the people who helped you seize the throne.

If you cannot give them a good life, then you will simply be the next Liang Emperor they overthrow.”

Emperor Pingkang drew a long breath; his swelling pride crashed down. His expression steadied. He once more cupped his hands to Le Jing, bowing deeply—more solemn than before.

“We shall reflect upon ourselves daily and never forget the Immortal Master’s teachings.”

When he straightened, the immortal had vanished—just as mysteriously as he had once appeared. As the saying goes: When the deed is done, one brushes off one’s sleeves, hiding one’s merit and fame.

Yet mortal legends would spread on their own.

People whispered of a tale:

In the final years of Liang, when the Emperor lost the Way and demons rose, when the people suffered unbearably, an immortal descended to purge the monsters and steady the realm.

In the northern wastes lived a brave and virtuous man—Yong. The immortal learned of him and taught him in dreams, assisting him in founding a nation called Chu, with the reign title Pingkang. From then on, the world knew peace.

…

The new emperor’s ascension was naturally celebrated for three days. The streets were filled with drums, firecrackers, dragon dances and lion dances—lively and joyous. Le Jing, Su Jian, and Lu Qingling walked among the crowds like drops of water returning to the sea—perfectly harmonious.

These ten years had left deep marks on Lu Qingling. She had become gentler, more composed.

She felt these ten years were brighter and more vivid than all the decades of her previous life combined.

Why had she chosen to follow Le Jing and Su Jian in the first place?

Perhaps because being admired and protected by the people… wasn’t such a bad feeling.

Or maybe because she wanted to know—what exactly were Le Jing and Su Jian trying to accomplish?

She had not been disappointed. It had truly been a grand, turbulent, thrilling, and breathtaking journey.

In these ten years, she followed them across all the rivers and mountains of the mortal world— 

the brilliant fireworks blooming in crackling explosions,
the majestic waves of endless rivers and mountains,
the lingering drizzles of Jiangnan in early spring,
the magnificent Milky Way shimmering over the northern deserts…

This world of mortal lanterns and vast landscapes was more splendid and wondrous than she had ever imagined.

She gradually came to understand how dazzling and brilliant the light that flares from ant-like mortals can be when facing life and death. She realized that although mortals’ lifespans are limited, they can still create eternal glory — and that is precisely the greatness of mortal beings.

More importantly, she herself had sounded the death knell for a decaying dynasty and personally witnessed the rise of a brand-new one.

But this was far from the end of their journey. They were also far from achieving their final goal — peace.

What they sought was not a fleeting peace maintained by force, but a peace lasting hundreds or even thousands of years. Their ultimate goal was: Great Unity under Heaven.

This Great Unity was not only unity within the human race, but unity between humans and demons. They dreamed of a world where all living beings could abandon prejudice and hatred and coexist peacefully to the greatest extent possible.

Perhaps there would still be small regional conflicts, but the majority of the land would be at peace. Humans and demons alike would have homes to live in, food to eat, children cared for, education to receive, work rewarded, treatment when sick, care in old age, housing security, and support for the vulnerable — only then would it be the beautiful Great Unity described in the ancient texts.

This was destined to be a difficult and long road.

But this was the world they yearned for in their dreams, and the driving force behind all their struggles thus far.

And precisely because of this, their ranks grew larger and larger, and their companions more and more numerous.

Lu Qingling gazed reverently at the back of the young monk.

He was her mentor, comrade, and brother.

He was also the eternal, immortal sun in the hearts of all of them.

They all firmly believed that he was guiding them onto a path that would benefit generations to come.

……

Children on the streets set off firecrackers in excitement, carefree smiles blooming on their faces — smiles born from peace.

Le Jing thought that perhaps along the way his hands had been stained with blood, but in the end, he had not done wrong.

The crisis of Beihuang City that day had merely been the opening move in the demons’ conspiracy.

A hundred years ago, the great war between humans and demons had left both sides severely wounded. The cultivation world won a bitter victory, and although the demons retreated to the grasslands, they had remained restless ever since, clamoring to reclaim the Central Plains and once again rule over the nine provinces.

To restore their former glory, the demons spared no cost in that battle. They sent out an elite Nascent Soul master at the forefront, intending to take the human cultivators by surprise — to seize as much advantage and territory as possible before humans could react.

And the capital of Great Liang was only a few hundred kilometers from Beihuang City; once the demons broke through Beihuang and marched northward, it would take only a few days to reach the capital.

If Le Jing and the others hadn’t insisted on defending the city, the capital of Great Liang might have fallen within days.

When Emperor Taizu of Liang founded the dynasty, he established the capital in the northern city with the intent that “the Son of Heaven guards the border; the sovereign dies for the altars of the state,” wanting future generations to remain vigilant of the nomadic tribes of the grasslands. Unfortunately, the ancestors’ painstaking foresight could not overcome the incompetence of later heirs.

The current emperor was greedy and licentious, selling offices, amassing wealth; his officials followed his lead, extorting and exploiting the people. Government affairs were in shambles. Coupled with years of natural disasters, the people lived in misery. The remaining troops of Great Liang were all deployed to suppress internal peasant uprisings, with no capacity left to watch the grassland tribes.

One could say that the timing of the grassland tribes’ attack was chosen extremely well — just when Great Liang was overwhelmed. Had they succeeded, they might truly have replaced the dynasty and claimed the Central Plains.

The Way of Heaven lies in balance.

Thus, even after humans won the great war a hundred years ago, they did not pursue the demons to annihilation.

And so, after the demons willfully launched a national war this time, the leaders of the immortal sects did not sit idly by. They decisively launched the Second Human-Demon War, and only through a tragic cost did they drive the demons back again.

The root cause of both wars was simply that the demon population had grown too large and expanded without limit, encroaching on human resources. Thus, human cultivators initiated war to artificially reduce the demons’ numbers and restore balance between the races.

The demons initiated war time and again simply to seize more resources for survival. Since ancient times, grassland tribes had coveted the Central Plains for the same reason. Compared with the fertile lands and beautiful mountains of the Central Plains, the northern plains were far too barren.

Therefore, in the wars between humans and demons, and between the Han and the grasslands, there was no absolute justice or absolute evil. At the root, it was merely that ancient productivity was low and resources scarce. Every nation and race sought to seize more of the limited resources to ensure survival. But humans and demons, Han and grasslanders, were not mutually exclusive, zero-sum enemies who could not coexist.

Le Jing grew up singing “Fifty-six ethnic groups, fifty-six flowers.” He knew well how harmonious and inseparable the Chinese ethnic groups could be.

To achieve this harmony, the absolute dominance of Han culture had to be maintained — without it, peace could not be discussed at all.

Thus, Le Jing had initially taken a hardline approach to suppress the northern grassland tribes’ invasion. Grassland tribes had always respected only the strong. If one could not achieve what Huo Qubing once did — “If we lose Qilian Mountains, our livestock shall not thrive; if we lose Yanzhi Mountain, our women shall have no color” — then the tribes would never truly become part of the Chinese nation.

It sounded cold and cruel, but this had always been the Han approach to external tribes: first suppression, then conciliation.

History had proven the method effective.

And so, Le Jing emulated it.

He carefully selected a promising candidate and subtly instilled his ideas into him (with no shortage of spiritual suggestion, of course). This newly appointed emperor of Great Chu would naturally carry out Le Jing’s ideas as his own. This was the most efficient way to improve domestic productivity. Throughout history, reforms from the top down were always far easier than those from the bottom up.

Driving out the invaders and restoring China was only the first step — the most crucial step. The order must not be reversed; Le Jing would never make the mistake of “dealing with internal matters before external ones.”

Only with a peaceful environment could the economy recover, productivity be developed, industrialization be guided, more resources created, ethnic conflicts eased, and the path from moderate prosperity to common prosperity be realized.

And… Le Jing had another idea.

Cultivators were generally intelligent — the dull could not cultivate — and with their long lifespans and ample spare time, many took interest in researching strange and novel things. Among them, Le Jing found early astronomers, biologists, civil engineers, chemists, surgeons — all sorts of technical talent.

They combined spiritual power with their hobbies, developing many ingenious applications of spiritual energy — such as that disciple from the Medicine Sect who somehow unlocked “Yuan Longping mode” in the cultivation world and developed a spiritual-energy version of “Golden Fertilizer.” Producing a thousand catties of wheat per mu was no longer a dream.

Thus, Le Jing couldn’t help imagining — in the future, could spirit-energy technology develop?

What kind of sparks would fly when cultivation civilization and industrial civilization fused? The thought alone made his heart surge, and he wished he could travel to the future to witness it personally.

But the road must be taken step by step. Haste would ruin everything.

For that beautiful future full of infinite possibilities, Le Jing must walk each step well.

Would the future become better?

Le Jing could answer with certainty — yes.

For the pursuit of a better life is a desire carved into the very genes of humankind. Any attempt to oppose, distort, or extinguish that desire is an anti-human atrocity.

Once accustomed to prosperity and peace, no one is willing to start a war. If someone insisted on doing so, then he would be the enemy of all humanity, a sinner nailed to the pillar of shame in history. The people would tear him apart first.

Human history has always developed upward in a spiral. Though there would be setbacks and regressions, what awaited everyone was ultimately a bright and beautiful ending.

What would this world become in the future?

That would be a very, very long story.

If fortune allowed, one day Le Jing would see the answer.

And for that, he would strive to live a little longer.