He and It Chapter 202: Inquire Here (30)

Chapter 202: Inquire Here (30)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

“The time hangs inverted…”

“Not bad.”

“Quite peculiar.”

“Mm.”

“In this vast world, there are many oddities. I have wandered through six thousand years of worlds, yet rarely have I heard of such a thing.”

“Indeed.”

Liu Fuguang sat on the ground, exchanging words with Yan Huan.

He was pondering. When he didn’t speak, Yan Huan’s nine eyeballs roamed around on the ground, circling him like celestial bodies orbiting the sun.

After a while, Liu Fuguang softly said, “So that’s how it is.”

“What have you thought of?” Yan Huan asked at the right moment.

“I once thought this mortal had practiced some evil path, seizing qi from all under heaven for his own use, to consolidate his rule. But now, upon further reflection, it seems there is much more to it.” Liu Fuguang lowered his eyes, pondering, “Cycle…He somehow acquired means to infinitely prolong his dynasty within the cycles of time.”

“No wonder the mortals here have all become living dead.” Yan Huan surged and roamed, as he emitted vague and terrifying rumbling sounds. “This world truly is like a chessboard in his hands, where he can manipulate things as he wishes.”

Liu Fuguang also thought of that, and his hidden anger brewed like surging thunder within his chest.

Because time could reverse, any kind of loss, no matter how cruel the consumption, was acceptable. Massacring the people, burning cities, destroying farmlands, squandering armies… What did it matter? Everything could always return to its original state. When the drum tower chimed, Wuping remained that bustling Wuping, and the Holy Ancestor remained the wise Emperor.

“No wonder he risked everything to use people as bait, determined to hold us back no matter what.” Liu Fuguang said. “Time…as long as the time comes, he’s safe. Everything rolls back, and he also has the chance to start over.”

“No wonder he’s not afraid of us,” Yan Huan laughed. “No wonder the aides he has under his seat, each one has purer spiritual energy than those in the Golden Core stage.”

Liu Fuguang looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“Do you still remember the first batch of little scraps who came to the door?” Yan Huan said. “They questioned us about why we were ‘destroying the great cause of the Holy Ancestor.’ Compared to those muddle-headed vagrants, those little scraps could be called informed.”

Liu Fuguang’s heart thumped, he was unable to help being disturbed, “You mean, they are willing to throw themselves into that endless cycle, at the behest of the Holy Ancestor, because the informed have some kind of privilege, for instance…as long as they accept the cycle, they can accumulate their own strength like a rolling snowball?”

Mind-linked, really mind-linked!

Yan Huan’s nine eyes sparkled brightly. It was truly sweeter than eating honey. The Dragon God smiled foolishly, “Fuguang is truly wise! Yes, what you and I think is no different. I just don’t know if the aides we killed can still re-enter the ‘Holy Ancestor’s’ cycle?”

He snorted on the ground, stretched out a shiny little black paw from the tar heap, patted his belly, and said, “After all, the power of those golden hearts are still in my body and have never been away.”

Liu Fuguang raised his eyebrows. He certainly remembered the numerous auxiliaries who had been eaten by Yan Huan.

“The Lord of Wancheng should no longer enter the Holy Ancestor’s cycle,” he sighed, “which is good news.”

He stood up and said, “Let’s go. There are still some mysteries we need to solve.”

Yan Huan grunted and squealed, but he refused to gather himself from the ground. Liu Fuguang saw his intentions and held out his arms, even though he was tired from the bottom of his heart.

In changing his and Yan Huan’s relationship, he was the one indeed given in first, and helped lift him up the first time around and then worked together against their common target and enemy as he had decreed against auxiliary guards.

Yan Huan coquettishly sold his infatuation, but upon sensing the other party’s change in tone, he immediately froze.

The dark, fleshy, pulp swayed and spiraled, then swiftly gathered and coalesced into Yan Huan’s humanoid form, then cloaked itself in human skin. Disguised as a handsome deity, he cautiously and timidly observed his lover.

Liu Fuguang turned around, determined to put that minor incident out of his mind.

“It looks like we have to go back the way we came,” he said, as he looked at the familiar mountains and forests. “Let’s first visit Wancheng.”

On the mountain road, they once again came across the small wine tavern. Without hesitation, Liu Fuguang pushed aside the wine flag and walked in.

The exhausted tavern girl was still there, as was the listless waiter. Several regulars sat slumped at their usual seats, their positions unchanged. Liu Fuguang smiled faintly, walking confidently towards the liquor cabinet, engaging in conversation with the tavern mistress.

“How’s business been?” he asked with a gentle smile, like a long-lost friend warmly greeting her. “Since we last met, you’re as charming as ever.”

The tavern mistress stood dumbfounded, as she racked her brains to recall when she had last served this customer. However, her empty memory offered no answers, and left her completely absorbed in the person’s present smile.

To see such a smile was like witnessing a warm orange sunset, the flowing spring tide, flocks of egrets flying over scattered fishing boats…It ignited a warm feeling in her chest, so that she even recalled distant childhood memories — the simple thatched hut, where she often caught lively crickets in the damp corners, the joyous laughter under the leaky roof during early spring, and all the simple beauties…

“If you’re really tired, just go home,” the customer continued persuasively. “Spend time with your family, get a good night’s sleep. It’s better than anything else.”

Just that one sentence stirred up intense homesickness in her heart. The scenery of her hometown slowly became clear before her eyes. To return to her roots, the pull was strong, almost spiritual, drawing her back to that modest and warm homeland.

The tavern mistress sighed deeply, as did the waiter and the regulars in the shop.

“Don’t jest, sir,” one of them said sadly. “Our hometown is thousands of miles away. It’s not that easy…”

Liu Fuguang smiled and asked, “Is it that you can’t return, or that you don’t want to?”

“In this world, nothing is difficult if you have the heart for it,” he whispered softly. “With sincerity, what can’t one achieve?”

The tavern fell silent. They argued back and forth, Yan Huan’s brow furrowed with impatience, and he said, “If you don’t want to go back, then none of us will. Let’s all just die here!”

Since Liu Fuguang was the one with the white face, he played the role of the good guy appropriately.

Startled by his sudden outburst, the tavern mistress trembled in fear, waved her hands frantically, and cried out, “No! We don’t want to die away from home, no!”

Liu Fuguang was at a loss, and gently took hold of the tavern mistress’s sleeve. He spoke softly, “Madam, let’s go home.”

The tavern mistress stopped struggling, lowered her head, and stared at Liu Fuguang as tears welled up in her clear eyes.

“Let’s go home.” The young woman, visibly uneasy, almost shyly wiped her greasy hands on her apron, and choked back tears as she repeated, “Alright…let’s go home.”

A gentle breeze began to rise on the plain, swirling gently. It blew open the motionless wine flags, causing the tattered door curtains to flutter lightly. Laden with the fragrance of wine, tea, the lingering aroma of aged wood on the old table, and the faint scent of wood shavings…it rose high into the sky, where the clear blue expanse was interrupted only by a small, soft white cloud drifting lazily.

Liu Fuguang straightened up. The tavern was empty save for him and Yan Huan.

“They’ve finally left.” Yan Huan stretched lazily. “It took quite a bit of effort. The obsession implanted by the Holy Ancestor runs deep.”

Liu Fuguang smiled. “But homesickness is equally a powerful obsession. One’s longing for their homeland is sufficient to rival an imperial decree.”

“Let’s go,” he concluded. “To Wancheng.”

The two of them navigated to the city gate as usual. This time, it wasn’t Yan Huan causing a disturbance, but the guards at the city gate who questioned them. When Liu Fuguang inquired about the City Lord, the young soldier blushed under his gaze, awkwardly informing him that the Lord had passed away long ago, and the royal city had never sent anyone to replace him. The affairs of the province were now managed by the provincial governor.

Liu Fuguang thanked him for the information. As they stepped through the city gate, he suddenly laughed.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Huan asked.

Liu Fuguang replied, “I had an idea.” Right there on the street, he took out a long jade rod, hung a string of deep blue talisman bells from the top, then pulled out the bright Sun Pearl and placed it high atop the rod.

The bustling crowd on the street gathered around, intrigued by the young man’s magical gestures, and watched his every move. When Liu Fuguang presented a radiant and dazzling gem, the crowd gasped in unison, as they wondered what he was up to.

As he walked, shaking the melodious jade bells, the streets filled with people, inexplicably following this unassuming young man. The brilliance of the Sun Pearl shone far and wide, while Liu Fuguang softly sang, “The desire of the soul to return, why forget and turn back in a moment? Departing from the land of Xia, thinking back to the distant days of old…”

The lyrics were brief, only four lines, but the song was incredibly clear and gentle, and it stirred a deep nostalgia in everyone who heard it.

They couldn’t help but yearn for their homelands, now faded in memory, as they recalled the warmth of their parents’ hands. They were like weary travelers who finally found a long-lost soft bed, where there were rustling husk pillows, whitened bedding washed clean, with a distant and faint fragrance.

“…Climbing the great mound to gaze into the distance, to ease my troubled heart.” The bells rang clear as Liu Fuguang continued to walk through the streets and alleys. “Lamenting the peace of the land of Ai, mourning the lost wind of the Jiangjie..”

Yan Huan knew what his beloved wanted to do. He no longer used a human form, and transformed instead into a slender little dragon of flowing mist, like a shiny ribbon, that swirled around Liu Fuguang’s sleeves, as he faithfully protected him.

The longing and attachment to the homeland flowed through the blood of every person. It was a powerful bond. It didn’t necessarily have to be a specific place name; it could be a house, a river, a moment in time, or even one or several people. The people of Wuping might have long since perished in endless cycles, yet that bond firmly followed all sentient beings, never to be erased in vain.

The song was so sorrowful yet so mercifully touched the hearts of those living beings. In the dusk of the evening, warm winds drifted across the sky, with numerous points of light like dandelions. The entire city of Wancheng was bathed in the radiance of the pearl, and people quietly stepped out of their homes to listen to the ballad that described their homeland.

Yan Huan gently opened one eye, gazed at Liu Fuguang’s relaxed expression, his face so tender that words couldn’t describe it.

In that tranquil moment, he suddenly thought of many things. He remembered days from the past. Liu Fuguang would sometimes read obscure Daoist scriptures that far surpassed his cultivation base, leaving Yan Huan to find him exhausted and asleep by the stone steps or the lake shore for days. He would lift him up, his arms around his shoulders, every inch of his skin burning like molten lava, painful yet unwilling to let go.

He recalled how Liu Fuguang would stay up late at night, avidly reading mortal-written scrolls, his long black hair falling loose casting shadows on the pages, which displeased Yan Huan. In truth, Liu Fuguang disliked his long hair—difficult to manage, prone to disorder, yet as strong and resilient as the lush branches of spring. He had suggested many times to cut it short, but Yan Huan, unwilling to witness such a spectacle, knew he had to take matters into his own hands. When Liu Fuguang immersed himself in reading, Yan Huan would comb his hair for him, using a hairpin to tie it up neatly and tuck away stray strands. At first, he was clumsy, and the bun would end up crooked, but with practice, the hair would become smooth and tidy.

I would do anything for you, he thought, Whatever it may be. Though slaughter, deceit, and bloody battles are my forte, if you dislike them, I shall relinquish those powers. If you wish to save lives, I will accompany you; if mortal affairs disturb your peace, they may live long, peaceful lives. If you want to admire colorful flowers, feel the breeze by the water, witness the fleeting human life in the ‘ten-foot red dust’, or watch foolish children playing with crude wooden toys—meaningless and noisy as it may be—I will gladly be by your side, even if it’s just quietly basking in the sun without speaking.

In truth, there are many things I haven’t confessed to you. This kind of emotion is still completely foreign to me, making me fragile, indecisive and easily hurt. I need to always know where you are, whether you’re safe, healthy, happy—though I know clearly that I am the source of all your trials and pains. It’s like a hole drilling into the seams of my bones, making me itch with pain, yet I am powerless, how terrifying!

But there is one thing I vaguely understand now.

—Such a terrifying thing, not built from gold, silver, jewels, power, or the divine power to decide life and death. It… actually hides in every ordinary and trivial thing, such as, I belong to you, from today to tomorrow, from tomorrow to every day thereafter.

“Wancheng is empty.”

Countless scattered fireflies floated in the sky. Liu Fuguang looked up with a smile, and Yan Huan looked at him and smiled too.