From Fanwu to Xinghai

Chapter 39 Each and Every Weight

The first ray of dawn at Yanhuang Pass was stained with blood.

The scorched earth atop the city wall, the figures lying on the battlements, the arrows stuck in the cracks of the wall that no one would ever pick up again—all these constitute a scene that no one wants to remember, yet no one can forget.

When Lin Chen stepped into the city gate, Zhao Fengchun was standing in the center of the city wall, not saying a word, but pacing back and forth, one step, two steps, three steps, turning around, then one step, two steps, three steps again. Lin Chen recognized that walking posture—it wasn't thinking, it was restraint, using his steps to steady something, not letting it spill out.

Of the three thousand people, how many are left?

Lin Chen didn't ask, nor did he dare to ask.

He saw the armor neatly stacked on the open ground inside the city. The armor was tattered, and some of it was still covered with a black liquid that had not yet dried. It was the bodily fluid of the Time Eclipse, which reflected a lifeless luster in the sunlight.

A young soldier sat next to the armor, his hands covering his face, his shoulders shaking.

He didn't cry out loud, he just trembled.

Lin Chen walked past him, paused for a moment, wanting to say something, but found that he couldn't say anything. In the end, he just patted him on the shoulder and continued walking.

As soon as the button was pressed, the soldier's trembling gradually stopped.

Maybe it's useless, but maybe that pressure when he pressed down was all he needed at that moment.

After circling the city wall countless times, Zhao Fengchun finally stopped.

He saw Lin Chen walk up and nodded: "Did it work?"

"It's done." Lin Chen stood beside him. "The rift is closed. The Time Eclipses will dissipate on their own, and there won't be another all-out attack."

"good."

Zhao Fengchun uttered only this one word, yet it seemed to carry all the weight of his being. He turned to look at the scorched wilderness outside the city, remained silent for a long time, and then spoke, his voice extremely low:

"Five hundred and twenty-seven people."

Lin Chen was stunned for a moment before he realized that those were the numbers of survivors.

Of the three thousand people, only five hundred and twenty-seven remain.

"I've guarded the border for thirty years," Zhao Fengchun said. "I've fought the Northern Rong, the Mountain Barbarians, and the bandits, but never before have so many men been lost in a single battle."

He paused, then continued, "But in those battles, I won, and I can clearly explain the reasons for the victory or defeat, and I can clearly explain where I went wrong and how I can improve next time. This battle!"

"I don't know where I won, nor do I know where I lost."

"The person is gone."

Lin Chen listened without interrupting him.

Zhao Fengchun turned his face and looked directly at him: "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I understand," Lin Chen said. "You're saying their deaths must be worthwhile."

The old general remained silent for a moment, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes twitched.

"Young man, you are clever," he said, "but cleverness is not enough. You must also remember that the most common mistake clever people make is thinking that thinking clearly means they have done it."

He patted Lin Chen on the shoulder, the force of which was much greater than that of an ordinary person, as if he were about to slap something in.

"Go see your friend," he said. "I heard he's gone out of town too."

Xiao Yan was in a ruin in the east of the city.

The ruins were houses destroyed when a Time Eclipse stormed into the city last night. Stones were scattered on the ground, and the morning breeze stirred up a layer of fine dust. Xiao Yan sat on a large rock, head down, hands on his knees, palms up. The purple light that had been flowing had settled into a deep, almost black purple.

He heard footsteps, but didn't turn around.

"You've left the city." Lin Chen walked over and sat down next to him.

"Um."

Why?

Xiao Yan didn't answer immediately, remaining silent for a long time before finally saying, "Because I owe something."

"What is that?"

"I don't know what to call it." He looked at his palm. "This power," he said, "last night, you prevented me from forcing my way up, you let me control it in another way. That!"

He paused.

"That's like you've paid off my life for me," Xiao Yan said. "But I've never owed anyone a life, and I don't want to owe you one. That's why I came out, wanting to take a few for you."

Lin Chen looked at him and said, "Did you block it?"

Xiao Yan raised the corners of his mouth, a smile that held an indescribable quality—a mixture of self-mockery and relief: "Blocked over a dozen. And then?"

He lowered his head, his voice growing even softer: "Then, the crack closed, and those things began to dissipate. I just stood there, watching them turn to ash one by one and vanish."

"It's funny, but it suddenly occurred to me then that they're actually quite similar to me," he said. "They exist because of the power of the dimensional gaps, and they come from there too."

"It's just that I chose this side; they had no choice."

Lin Chen looked at him but didn't rush to speak.

Xiao Yan remained silent for a while before continuing, "Lin Chen, I've always had a hard time admitting that I need others."

"I know."

"But I remembered what you said that night in the darkness." He looked directly at Lin Chen. "Shen Qingluan is waiting for me."

"Yes."

"Then I..." Xiao Yan said, "I can!"

He didn't finish speaking, but Lin Chen understood.

"Okay," Lin Chen said.

Xiao Yan lowered his head, the purple light slowly pulsating on his chest. After a long silence, he raised his hand and gently pressed it between his brows, as if confirming something.

That action was almost exactly the same as Lin Chen's reaction when the mark between his eyebrows was touched.

Lin Chen noticed, but didn't say anything.

Some things are better left for later.

Qin Mo waited for them at the city gate.

He stood leaning against the city wall, holding three sesame seed cakes in his hand. Seeing the two approaching, he held them up and said, "Breakfast is here. Only three left. The city's food rations are running low."

Lin Chen took one, Xiao Yan took one, and the three of them stood at the city gate eating sesame cakes.

The sesame seed cake was as hard as a rock, requiring a lot of effort to bite into, and it had no taste at all, except for a faint smell of stove ash.

But neither of them said anything, they just kept their heads down and gnawed away in silence.

Outside the city, the gray traces left behind by the Time Eclipses faded more and more in the morning light. Those traces were like words written on the ground, disappearing before they could be read.

Halfway through his meal, Lin Chen suddenly asked, "Where's Lin Yuan?"

"Before closing the rift, he said he wanted to check out other places first," Qin Mo said. "He told us not to wait for him, saying he would return to the Qingyun Sect on his own."

"He's always like this," Lin Chen said softly. "He comes, does his work, and leaves without saying goodbye."

"But every time, it's at the most crucial moment," Qin Mo said.

Lin Chen didn't speak, but simply raised his head and looked at the gray traces that were being faded by the morning light. He thought of the bubbles of civilization that had dissipated one by one in the river of time, the gray lines on Lin Yuan's pale arm, and the letter in his father's manuscript that read "To my future child".

Everything has weight.

Nothing can be omitted.

Three days later, Lin Chen, Qin Mo, and Xiao Yan embarked on their journey back to the Qingyun Sect.

Zhao Fengchun saw them off outside the city gate, standing there silently. Only after the three had walked quite a distance did he hear the aged voice from behind them, deep and powerful:

"Remember, Yanhuang Pass was once defended."

Lin Chen didn't turn around, but simply raised his hand and waved at him.

That gesture was exactly the same as the wave that Lin Yuan waved when he left home in his youth, as described in his father's manuscript.

Perhaps this is what bloodline is—not something cultivated, but something silently passed down through generations of separation.

On their first night on their return journey, the three of them stayed in a dilapidated post station.

The night wind whistled through the gaps in the pavilion, as if someone was whispering something.

Qin Mo was the first to fall asleep, as always. He would fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, faster than anyone else, as if he regarded sleep as some kind of spiritual practice.

Xiao Yan leaned against the pillar, closed his eyes, but did not fall asleep. He simply maintained a certain superficial calm.

Lin Chen sat on the edge of the pavilion, his legs dangling over the edge, enjoying the night breeze and gazing at the distant mountain shadows.

He sensed the last time imprint of Daojili, that spark-like thing, pulsating alone in the darkness.

The six realms have been extinguished.

Only one remains.

He used to think that the more power he had, the safer and more confident he would be. But now, sitting in this post-war silence, he truly understood Lin Yuan's words.

The significance of leaving one last course is not for backup, but to remind yourself that you are still you.

That final mark of time is his boundary, and also the path he came from.

He looked down at his palms; there was no light, just a pair of ordinary hands.

But he knew that these hands had protected Yanhuang Pass tonight.

No one needs to remember this event, nor does it need to be praised. It simply happened, and it truly happened, weighing heavily on the lives of the 527 people who are still alive, and it will never disappear.

Lin Chen slowly raised his head, took a deep breath, and the mark between his eyebrows emitted a very faint light in the darkness.

It's not time for me to die yet.

There is still a long way to go.