novelden Chapter 2589 The Man in Black
Chapter 2589 The Man in Black
The moon is high in the sky.
The sounds of mourners had long since dispersed, the mountain road was deserted, and only the pale white ashes of paper money slowly cooled in the night.
In the distance, village lights flicker, like a few embers of life still burning in the hearts of people who haven't yet fallen asleep. And here, it is the quietest corner between heaven and earth.
Standing alone at Meng Sheng's tomb.
His robes were gently lifted by the night breeze, then fell back down, like a very shallow ripple on the surface of water. His expression was calm, without sadness or grief, as if his emotions had already traveled a long way, leaving only a calm and clear mind.
a long time.
A tear rolled down his cheek.
Silent, without a sound.
It wasn't a collapse, nor was it out of control; rather, it was like a cloud that had been gathering for a long time, finally letting out a little rain.
The night wind comes from deep within the pine forest, rustling through the branches and leaves with a soft sound. The shadows of the trees spread out under the moon, long and sparse, neither entangled nor lingering, simply standing alone, surrendering their shadows to the earth.
When the wind blows, the pine needles tremble slightly.
When the wind stops, the world seems even more vast.
The wind wasn't cool; it carried the scent of mountains and rocks and the fresh aroma of grass and trees, as if someone far away was gently sighing for this mortal world.
Meng Sheng did not wipe away his tears.
He simply gazed at the two new graves side by side, his eyes far-reaching, as if he had already crossed this mountain and this night, looking towards a much longer road.
The living travel, the dead are buried.
The wind comes and goes, but the mountain remains silent.
The moonlight fell on his shoulders and on the grass in front of the grave, equally clear and equally still.
At this moment, there is no cultivation, no fame, no past turmoil.
Only the vast mountains and fields, and the high-hanging Milky Way.
He stood there alone, yet he did not appear lonely.
It was as if they had already understood—
People come and go, it's just like the wind passing through the treetops.
What truly remains is never the sound.
The moonlight remained unchanged.
The mountain remained quiet at night, as if nothing had happened.
Meng Sheng stood before the tomb, his hands hanging down in his sleeves. He looked at the two mounds of fresh soil for a while, as if confirming their location.
When he spoke, his voice was soft and ordinary:
“Mother, I have repaired the main door of the house. I have oiled the hinges and they will not rattle anymore.”
“I added a stone rim to the well in the backyard so it won’t collapse easily when it rains.”
The moonlight fell on the ashes of the paper offerings in front of the grave, creating a silvery-white layer.
"The books in the study have been arranged according to my father's old habits. The classics and histories are on the left, and the miscellaneous notes are on the right. They are not messy."
He paused for a moment, as if thinking to see if he had missed anything.
“I’ve already told my neighbors that it’s fine for the yard to be empty since I’ll be away for a while.”
The night was still and quiet, and there was no response.
“Father, I’m used to walking the mountain paths, I won’t get lost again.”
"Mother, I didn't bring many clothes, but it's enough."
"I left most of my money behind, I don't need it."
The wind rustled through the trees, creating a sound like the pine needles swaying in the breeze, before quickly subsiding.
Meng Sheng's gaze was straight ahead, and he didn't linger on the grave for long, as if he were simply telling the two old people something that had already been decided.
"This trip is a long one."
"It may take several years, or even longer. The mountains are high and the rivers are long, and the letter may not arrive."
He spoke slowly and gently.
"You don't need to wait."
The night was like a deep pool, with the moon floating quietly on its surface.
"The yard will get old, the walls will get dusty, and the trees will grow taller."
"Everything is normal."
He took one last look, his gaze neither lingering nor darting away.
"The child is leaving."
After saying that, he turned around.
Footsteps landed on the rocks, the sound was soft and steady, step by step, heading out of the mountain.
The pine forest did not try to keep them, nor did the moonlight follow.
Only the wind blows past the grave and then goes far away.
This time, however, it was no longer the farewell he had when leaving home, but a message that he was about to embark on a long journey and never return. There was no excitement or surging emotions, no heartache or sorrow, only a boundless calm that had remained with the passing years.
At the end of the mountain road, the moonlight grows even colder.
The shadows were stretched out long, spreading across the ground like water.
A person was leaning against a crooked old locust tree.
Dressed in black.
It wasn't the tight-fitting clothes for nighttime travel, but rather the kind of black that was casually draped over his body, with loose collars and an old leather rope tied around his waist, from which hung a short knife and a gourd of wine, which he didn't know where he got them from.
His boots were covered in dry mud, and he stood rather awkwardly, one foot on a tree root, his shoulder leaning lazily against the tree trunk, as if the mountain night had nothing to do with him.
The moonlight fell on his face, highlighting his distinct features.
His eyebrows were slightly raised, but his eyes carried a hint of nonchalant wildness, like someone who had fought in the streets and alleys, gone hungry, and still managed to get by with a smile.
His lips always seemed to hold an unspoken sarcasm, his smile unserious yet never frivolous.
He raised his hand and shook the gourd, but there was only an empty sound inside.
"It's finally over. I can't stand you pedantic scholars. Even your funerals are so flowery."
His voice carried a hint of laziness, and a roughness honed from his street-smart days.
If you threw this person into a crowd in the city, everyone would recognize him.
—Defying the Heavens!
He grew up without parents, in the streets and alleys, where he stole chickens, got into fights, was beaten with sticks, and even slept hugging the wall in winter.
When he was a teenager, half the shops in the town were wary of him, and they would either curse or chase him away whenever they saw him.
But here he is, in a strange way.
It's as if they were waiting specifically for that person.
At the other end of the mountain road, Meng Sheng walked slowly towards him.
His robes were simple and clean, his hair was neatly tied, and his steps were unhurried. Even his shadow seemed quiet. The moonlight fell on him as if it were falling on an open page of a book.
One looks like it stepped out of a book.
It looked like it had been shot out from the streets and alleys.
One is quiet, the other is wild.
One clear, one turbid.
Two figures faced each other under the moonlight.
Ni Canghuan looked at him, chuckled, and turned his head to spit out a blade of grass that he had somehow put in his mouth.
"Scholar Meng".
His tone was still casual, but his gaze had lost its former nonchalance and was now surprisingly calm.
That's the look in someone's eyes that comes after they've truly "seen" something.
Back then, others only saw him as a menace.
Only Meng Sheng, sitting at the entrance of the dilapidated temple, listened to his ramblings and then calmly said:
“I have seen you help those orphans and I have seen you protect them. You have never been bad, because my father once said that the greatest skill of a crowd is to see things wrong together.”
From that day on, there was one less thug in the streets.
Behind Meng Sheng, there was an extra shadow.
The night breeze rustled through the leaves of the locust tree.
The scholar embarked on a long journey.
The prodigal son straightened up.
Two different backgrounds, two different paths, yet at this moment, they are heading in the same direction.
Because they had already planned to leave Ice Cloud Mountain and step into the real world of cultivation.
But nobody knows.
In the Eternal Immortal Realm, the master of the Xuanhuang Dao Palace, and a direct disciple of the Eternal Dao Ancestor, Ni Canghuan also chose to abandon everything and reincarnate to cultivate anew. This is what he said at the time:
“Teacher, Old Demon Meng is older and therefore he always puts me in a superior position, often making my clothes slightly dirty, but I have never accepted it!”
"Having heard that Old Demon Meng has entered the realm of reincarnation, this disciple is also willing to go there to reincarnate and cultivate again to compete with him in the same generation and suppress this fiend!"
"Hehe, what ambition! Granted."
Chen Xun smiled and nodded, agreeing to the matter without the slightest hesitation. He said that Ni Canghuan could be reincarnated with a wisp of Xuanhuang Qi for self-defense, which showed that he had high expectations for Ni Canghuan.