blogombal Chapter 45 asks very profound questions.
Chapter 45 asks very profound questions.
Side hall of Gate 31.
Zhuge Yan sat on a wooden chair in the side hall, holding a cup of hot tea in his hands.
The tea is coarse, with large and broken leaves, but it has a unique sweetness from mountain spring water.
After waiting for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, very light footsteps came from outside the door.
The footsteps were distinctive, neither too fast nor too slow, neither too light nor too heavy, each step landing on the same beat, like a pendulum.
In an instant, Zhuge Yan recognized that these were the footsteps of Zuo Ruotong, the Immortal of Daying.
When Zuo Ruotong stepped into the side hall, she still carried the unique fragrance of the pine forest behind the mountain.
He was still wearing that moon-white Taoist robe, his hair tied up with a white jade hairpin, and his face still looked as handsome as someone in his twenties, but there were a few more strands of white hair at his temples than last year.
The triple rebirth effect grants him eternal life, yet it cannot conceal the subtle marks of time.
"Junior Zhuge Yan greets the Left Gate Master."
Zhuge Yan rose and bowed.
"Sit down, no need for formalities."
Zuo Ruotong smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to sit down, while she herself took her seat in the main seat of the side hall.
Then he raised his calm, water-like eyes and looked Zhuge Yan up and down.
This glance was so brief that Zhuge Yan himself might not have even noticed it, but after he finished looking at it, the faint smile on Zuo Ruotong's lips deepened considerably.
"Did you walk all this way alone?"
"Yes."
Zhuge Yan nodded.
"Sichuan is over a thousand kilometers from Sanyi Gate. It's truly remarkable that you, at your age, managed to travel all the way safely."
Zuo Ruotong couldn't help but sigh.
"You flatter me, Master Zuo."
Zhuge Yan clasped his hands in a fist salute, without complaining.
Seeing Zhuge Yan fall silent again, a look of understanding gradually flashed in Zuo Ruotong's eyes.
"Little one, you... something's on your mind? You came to our Sanyi Sect this time, probably not just to visit Yun'er, right?"
Zhuge Yan paused slightly in the teacup he was holding.
He put down his teacup, remained silent for a moment, and then calmly looked up to meet Zuo Ruotong's gaze.
"Master Zuo has keen insight. This junior has indeed come here today to ask you something."
Zuo Ruotong didn't reply, but simply held her teacup and quietly watched him, waiting for him to continue.
"Since leaving the Wuhou School, I have met many people and experienced many things along the way."
No matter what they experienced, one question always lingered in the minds of the younger generation.
Is this world real or an illusion?
Upon hearing this, Zuo Ruotong's eyes narrowed slightly.
What do you mean by that?
Zhuge Yan opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke again:
"Master Zuo, to be honest, when I was young I had a... extremely absurd dream."
In my dream, everything around me was just a fictional story from a book.
Originally, after waking up from the dream and returning to reality, I would no longer think about whether the story was true or false.
But ever since I first entered the interior, I have gradually begun to blur the line between reality and the interior.
Gradually, I began to lose sight of what was interior scenery and what was reality.
Left Gate Chief…
Zhuge Yan's voice lowered, carrying a deep sense of bewilderment, as if he were stating a mystery that had troubled him his entire life.
"This junior dares to ask, what do you think... is my seeking your advice at this moment real, or an illusion?"
The mountains and rivers, the people and events I've experienced, the pain and joy I've felt—are they all creations of heaven and earth, or... a grand dream I've woven myself, from which I can never awaken?
The side hall fell silent for a moment.
The only sounds were the rustling of the mountain wind through the pine forest outside the window and the faint shouts of disciples practicing their skills in the distance.
The wisps of steam rising from the teacups slowly rose and dissipated between the two of them.
Zuo Ruotong did not answer immediately.
His clear eyes, so bright they seemed to reflect the depths of one's soul, were now quietly gazing at the boy before him.
A moment later, Zuo Ruotong picked up the rough porcelain teacup in front of her and took a small sip.
His movements were slow and natural, as if he were savoring the sweetness of the mountain spring, or as if he were using this ordinary object to organize his thoughts.
"Zhuge Yan..."
Zuo Ruotong finally spoke, her voice calm and gentle, like a clear mountain spring, carrying a comforting power.
"Your question is very profound. So profound that it keeps many people who have cultivated the Tao for decades awake at night."
He slowly put down his teacup and turned his gaze to the verdant pine forest swaying in the morning light outside the window.
"What is real? What is illusion? This is not a question that only you are confused about."
Throughout history, countless sages and virtuous men have sought answers on this very path.
Zuo Ruotong paused slightly, her tone becoming even more profound.
"You speak of childhood dreams, stories from Daoist books. But aren't the dreamscapes described in those books also 'existing' in some sense?"
They left their mark on your heart, stirred ripples, and even influenced your thoughts and feelings today. This influence is real and tangible.
On your journey down the mountain, all the people you meet and the things you experience, whether favorable or unfavorable, whether you like it or not, all the feelings they evoke in you.
The profound mystery of Qimen Dunjia, the warmth of reuniting with loved ones, and even the confusion I feel as I speak with them now.
Aren't all these "feelings," these fluctuations of thought, these flows of Qi, the most direct and undeniable "truth"?
Zhuge Yan was startled. Zuo Ruotong did not directly deny his "illusionary feeling," but instead pointed out the authenticity of the "feeling" itself.
This made him subconsciously recall those experiences.
The crisp sound of Hu Haiwang's copper coin hitting the ground, the shockwave of the bomb, the eerie pulling that caused things to flip in all directions, the joy upon seeing Zhuge Yun...
These feelings are so clear and specific.
Zuo Ruotong continued speaking, her voice carrying a penetrating wisdom.
"The inner world is mysterious and all-encompassing, and can even evolve the heavens and earth and predict the future. It is indeed easy for people to lose their way."
But the inner vision is ultimately a manifestation of your thoughts, a reflection of your understanding of the Tao, reason, and yourself.
It is like the moon reflected on the water; though not the moon in the sky itself, it is a manifestation of moonlight.
Being fixated on distinguishing between the moon reflected in the water and the moon in the sky is a poor choice.
The key question is: have you been trapped by the moon's shadow, losing sight of your true appreciation for the moon?
His gaze returned to Zhuge Yan, carrying the gentleness and expectation of an elder.
"You are experiencing this illusion and confusion because of that dream and the inner vision. This is itself a part of your reality and a manifestation of your unique mental journey."
This confusion is not an obstacle, but a threshold, an opportunity to question one's true self.
Throughout your journey, you have overcome dangers and resolved difficulties. This resourcefulness, this skill, this composure under pressure—cannot be given by illusion alone.
"As for what you called 'book stories'..."
A faint smile appeared on Zuo Ruotong's lips, a smile that seemed to have seen through the vicissitudes of life.