Chapter 115: The Sword Piercing Ye Qin

Ye Qin walked out of the Daoist temple, and what met his eyes were the vast mountains, with branches crisscrossing, dense green foliage like layers of green clouds hanging down.

It is unknown whether it is coincidence or something else.

But that makes sense—if it appeared in a bustling city, a Daoist temple suddenly materializing out of thin air could throw the world into chaos.

If someone stumbled upon it, would they consider it a divine omen or a strange anomaly?

As Ye Qin's thoughts wandered, he faintly heard a disturbance not far off—like sobbing, or something being struck with a dull thud.

Following the sound, he saw not far away silver light flashing, waves glimmering, like a special silver ribbon woven through.

After passing those sky‑blocking trees, his view opened up; he saw waves splashing in the river's midst, surging wildly, roaring like ten thousand horses galloping and boiling.

Ye Qin went downstream and looked at the river before him; it felt familiar, broader than before, and the water seemed deeper.

Earlier he had intended to contemplate the river, but unexpectedly drew upon this place's mottled temporal power, using the Daoist temple as a medium to enter this mysterious state.

Therefore what he saw should also be interconnected, just as it was before in Zuoci's Tomb.

The surrounding mountains embraced the scene; the river lay like a curved long ring sitting here, water and sky merging into one, refreshing the heart and delighting the spirit.

The river was no different from what he had seen before, but its surging momentum felt deeper, appearing exceptionally grand and magnificent.

Looking around, Ye Qin saw no village stele, and no settlement had formed; the place looked extremely remote, with no trace of human habitation.

"I don't even know what era I'm in now."

Ye Qin intended to continue his search, but heaven would not cooperate.

A drop of cold rain fell on him; he lifted his gaze and saw the sky had darkened at some point.

In an instant, the formerly clear sky was covered with dark clouds; a massive black cloud settled in a corner of the heavens and rapidly expanded its domain outward.

The black clouds, visible to the naked eye, swiftly took over the entire sky; the formerly calm, clear river also grew deep and somber at some point.

Rumble—

Not far off, a muffled thunder rumbled, inexplicably making one feel oppressed and short‑of‑breath; the clouds were heavy, as if shadows moved through them.

The river became turbulent, slightly murky, as if a huge creature had turned within it, retreating between the cliffs and crags, wind and lightning stirring the rolling waves.

"Bang!"

The spray slammed against the rocks nearby, shocking waves surging with the force to smash everything.

At first it was just a few drops of rain, but it quickly grew heavier; the sky seemed to have ripped open, pouring water down incessantly like a ten‑thousand‑foot waterfall, cascading a thousand feet.

Even the river surface was struck with many ripples; countless waves spread out, losing the earlier calm, coming on fiercely like a roaring dragon.

The weather didn't affect Ye Qin; he just disliked the feeling of being rained on, as he pondered whether to find shelter from the rain.

He faintly heard singing drifting from the river.

……

Ye Qin looked toward the river; his dark‑green snake eyes narrowed slightly, carrying a hint of inquiry and curiosity.

A tiny black dot flickered in and out of view on the water, soon drifting toward where Ye Qin stood.

It was a small black‑canopied boat; an old man wearing a raincoat rowed his oars, swaying unsteadily in the wind and rain—odd, given that the rain was intensifying and the river growing turbulent.

Several times Ye Qin saw the river throw up huge waves that smashed toward the boat; the vessel rocked wildly, as if about to capsize and be swallowed any second, yet it remained unharmed.

Countless white snowflakes swirled up from nowhere, even the edges of the black canopy seeming to be dusted with countless snowflakes.

One couldn't tell whether the boat was chasing the river waves or the waves were pushing the tide.

The black canopy appeared to sway, but in fact it remained steadfast on the river, like a lone flat boat.

"With fierce winds and huge waves on the riverbank, why is this little boat so steady?"

A flicker of doubt rose in Ye Qin's heart, yet he saw the boat drifting toward his position.

The black‑canopied boat docked at the riverbank; the rain‑clad old man fixed his gaze precisely on Ye Qin, lifted his head slightly, and revealed a face weathered by wind and frost.

Wrinkles covered his face like gullies, all traces of time; he looked exceedingly kind and gentle, evoking a sense of closeness.

"Isn't it joyful to have a friend come from afar?"

"The wind and rain have suddenly grown strong—why not come aboard to take shelter?"

The old man's familiar tone made it seem as if what stood before him were not a snake, but a long‑lost friend.

Ye Qin was slightly surprised; he sensed no fluctuation of Spiritual Power from the old man, and his aura was quite ordinary, no different from that of a common person.

But seeing that Ye Qin showed no fear at all, the old man even invited him aboard, as if certain Ye Qin could understand his words.

Ordinarily, upon seeing a giant snake, one would expect fear—so why would anyone willingly strike up a conversation?

The old man's reaction was truly somewhat unexpected.

However, Ye Qin's surprised expression was only a fleeting glance.

He thought of Zuoci; back then, Zuoci and he had also chatted freely.

This is merely one fragment of the mottled ages, not a genuine time‑space crossing; thus, even if strange things occur, they are understandable.

If nothing unexpected happens, he guessed the old man, like Zuoci, could understand his words—after all, here they are linked directly by mental power.

Ye Qin nodded in thanks, saying, "Thank you."

The old man's face was amiable, a smile playing at his lips as he called out, "Hold on tight!"

After Ye Qin boarded, he discovered the black‑canopied boat kept a pot of wine warm, a small fire burning in the stove, with the sound of crackling firewood.

In a daze, it gave Ye Qin the impression that everything was ready, as if waiting for his arrival.

Outside, wind and rain raged; inside the boat it seemed a world apart, tranquil and peaceful.

The rain curtain continued unabated, like a broken string of beads blocking sight, as if everything lay within a hazy mist.

Ye Qin was in the boat; wine fragrance drifted all around—he couldn't tell what kind of wine it was, but it was rich and mellow, with a hint of spiciness.

The old man seemed to sense Ye Qin's doubt, holding his wooden paddle and saying, "This is wine I casually brewed in my idle time; if you don't mind, please have a taste."

Having said that, he poured Ye Qin a cup and placed it before him.

Ye Qin lifted his head, his snake tongue flicked into the cup; the wine's aroma was rich and strong, sliding down his serpentine throat, instantly a flood of flavors surged through his heart.

At first it was somewhat sweet, then it turned spicy, choking the throat.

That feeling cannot be described in words; like life itself, it mixes indescribable sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy, and only those who have experienced it personally can understand.

For a moment, many images flashed in Ye Qin's mind—fragments of memories from his previous life, as well as the moment he had just crossed over and been reborn in this life.

All these intertwined, truly making one sigh with emotion.

Looking back on the past, he unconsciously realized he had gone through so much; now, thinking about it, it feels as if it all happened just yesterday.

Probably he was lost in thought, so much so that even when the old man shouted a few times, Ye Qin didn't notice.

After a moment, Ye Qin let out a faint sigh.

"Old sir, this liquor is truly extraordinary, like the passage of years, leaving a lingering aftertaste that makes me involuntarily recall my former self."

The old man laughed heartily, "Actually, this liquor is quite ordinary; only extraordinary people can discern its unique flavor. That said, everyone's experiences differ, so naturally what they taste will vary as well."

His words seemed to carry a double meaning, implying something else.

Only extraordinary people can taste that distinct flavor—could he be referring to my own identity?

Ye Qin had wanted to ask the old man, but seeing his gaze already turned toward the distance, it seemed the old man's words were just spoken offhand.

He could feel the boat swaying and rocking, the river tide and waves pushing the small boat farther and farther away, while the old man's wooden oar in his hand seemed merely decorative.

After all, the river currents are swift, not something human strength can alter, yet the old man obviously didn't mind; he rowed back and forth leisurely, his expression relaxed and content, as if he were enjoying himself.

Rather than saying he was poling the boat to ferry, it was more like the river water pushed the black-canopied boat forward; everything followed its natural course, implicitly revealing the principle of harmony among all things.

Ye Qin grew increasingly curious about the old man's origins.

Earlier, Zuo Ci at least left some traces to follow, but the old man's appearance was like a riddle, as if he had known Ye Qin would come all along.

In the gloomy wind and rain, a lone small boat crossed the river, arriving gracefully; no matter how you look at it, it doesn't seem like a coincidence.

However, Ye Qin sensed no ill intent from the old man, so he felt reassured boarding the small boat.

Probably Ye Qin's scrutinizing gaze was too obvious; the old man also noticed, smiling as he asked, "Why do you stare at me like that?"

Ye Qin also met his gaze openly; the old man's eyes were not cloudy like those of ordinary elders, but clear and bright, with a hint of smooth radiance, making him seem wise and lucid.

"May I ask, old sir, who are you?"

The old man stroked his beard and smiled, "Just a ferryman, making a living this way, watching the sunset and moonrise, the tides rise and fall, carrying many across these rivers, lakes, and seas."

His expression bore a hint of weathered wisdom, as if he had seen through worldly affairs; yet understanding worldliness did not make him worldly, possessing a detached clarity that saw through everything.

Ye Qin felt no special power fluctuations from the old man, which, by rights, really defied common sense.

Judging by the old man's words and deeds, he in no way resembled an ordinary ferryman.

But Ye Qin didn't press further; having met, they were fated—why dig to the root?

Just as the old man hadn't asked where he came from—perhaps the old man truly was just a ferryman, or perhaps not; he too was merely a passing traveler.

Because of this heavy rain, the two formed a brief affinity.

Sometimes the answer isn't that important.

Bang!

Suddenly, a huge wind and wave surged forward, violently striking the black-canopied small boat; at that moment the boat was like a sunken island in the sea, constantly at risk of capsizing.

Ye Qin even felt numerous cold splashes of water, which also sprayed onto him.

Plunk—

Accompanying the muffled sound, it seemed something had fallen down.

Oh no!

The old man let out a cry of alarm, as if something had happened.

Ye Qin hurriedly asked, "What's wrong?"

All that could be seen was the old man holding a wooden oar in one hand, the other hand empty; it turned out that during the great river surge just now, a wooden oar had accidentally fallen.

The old man's expression showed regret and sorrow, leaving Ye Qin quite puzzled.

"It's just a fallen wooden oar; why are you so upset, old man?"

The old man shook his head, "Not only the wooden oar, but the sword I've always carried also fell into the river; this sword has accompanied me for many years and carries deep sentiment."

It was evident this was the old man's beloved possession; otherwise he wouldn't show such an expression.

But the river is deep, wave after wave rolling in; whatever fell in could be swept anywhere, and trying to find it is utterly fantastical.

Ye Qin was about to say something to comfort him.

All that could be seen was the old man quickly composing his fallen demeanor, then fetching a small carving knife and making a mark on the black-canopied boat.

Watching his actions, Ye Qin felt even more bewildered, unsure what he intended to do.

The old man, however, smiled, his expression full of mystery, "You'll find out soon enough."

With a single oar it's hard to navigate, so the old man simply set down the wooden oar, letting the small boat drift on the river, sitting opposite Ye Qin and drinking freely, which was rather carefree.

The clear liquor surged in the cup.

The liquor's fragrance spread freely, enveloping the black-canopied small boat; watching the tides rise and fall, occasionally hearing the waves lap, it offered a distinct flavor.

Raindrops patted against the black canopy, as if keeping time, making one unable to resist singing a song.

The river wind blew the old man's white beard fluttering; his gaze fell upon the river water, which flooded without end, his expression carrying a hint of inscrutability.

"What in this world is eternally enduring?"

The old man's tone was flat and straightforward, seeming like an offhand question, yet it tugged at the heartstrings.

Ye Qin couldn't help but fall into contemplation; all things in the world are constantly in motion and change.

Just like the sun setting and rising, signifying that a day has passed and a fresh beginning arrives; no matter how one reminisces, yesterday cannot be reclaimed.

Likewise, as time passes, things undergo corresponding changes; take the clearest example.

Just as the river water he saw earlier and the river water he sees now are completely different—one representing the future, the other the past.

Although they are the same thing, the two nonetheless undergo different changes.

In the long river of time, nothing can remain unchanged; time will eventually wash everything away.

Ye Qin pondered for a moment and replied: "From ancient times to the present, things that endure eternally are exceedingly rare; the sun sets and the moon rises, flowers bloom and wither, tides ebb and flow, things rise and fall—everything is constantly changing."

The old man did not immediately refute Ye Qin's view; instead he asked, "So you think there is nothing eternal in this world?"

Ye Qin hesitated a moment, then nodded, saying, "I suppose so."

The old man again showed a meaningful expression: "Perhaps all things in the world change, but there is always something unchanging; there are always a few special things that become an eternal moment."

That statement can't be called right or wrong; Ye Qin did not immediately voice his opinion.

The old man continued: "Look at this great river, carrying surging waves as it rushes forward; many people vanish without a trace as they follow the flowing water."

Although they no longer exist in the world, the things they left behind are remembered by later generations; in a sense, is that not eternal?

Ye Qin watched the surging waves outside; the white foam seemed like fragments of time, rising and falling unpredictably in the long river, his expression grew distant, as if he were strolling through the river of time at that moment.

That said, such a view is somewhat one-sided.

Just as Ye Qin, though he has now entered the Dao and his lifespan has been extended, he would not dare to boast that he is eternally enduring.

Seas turn to mulberry fields, white clouds to grey dogs—everything is in constant flux.

Even inanimate objects, after being washed by the river of time, may appear in the world with a wholly different aspect.

Living beings, however, cannot escape birth, aging, sickness, and death—the principle of all things' reincarnation.

Everything in the world is constantly changing; what, then, could truly be eternal?

The old man smiled without speaking; the air suddenly fell into silence, a soundless stillness spreading outward.

Only the sound of waves continually striking the small boat could be heard, a faint impact.

After a moment, the old man replied: "It's not one-sided; I say this because I have seen it, and such an existence is right before us."

The old man's words were vague and puzzling, leaving Ye Qin bewildered; if such a thing truly existed, why had he not seen it?

Why have I never seen it?

The old man glanced at Ye Qin, a faint smile flickering in his eyes: "Think carefully—this thing is far away at the horizon, yet close at hand."

He did not spell it out, but instead once again left it as a cliffhanger.

Sometime the rain gradually ceased; a ray of sunshine broke through the heavy clouds, showering the river surface, and it instantly glittered.

Even the old, worn-out black-canopied boat was coated with a faint glow, like golden leaves drifting upon the boundless river.

No one knows where its endpoint lies; it seems to drift aimlessly, perhaps one day it will stop, perhaps never.

The old man leaned out, glanced at the sky, and exclaimed, "Oh, the rain has stopped!"

The river water returned to its former calm, flowing quietly between the mountains; it seemed that the earlier rapids and surges, even the towering waves, were all an illusion of Ye Qin's.

The mountains along the bank remained as before; after the rain they seemed greener, a faint water vapor rising, enveloping the surroundings, making even the scenery appear somewhat hazy.

It felt like a fairyland on earth, possessing a beauty that isolates one from the mundane, as if they had boarded a small boat and arrived where water meets sky.

The azure sky and the jade-green river faintly merged into a single line, appearing at first glance like a bluish jade ring set between heaven and earth.

Ye Qin chimed in: "Yes, the rain has stopped."

At that moment the fire on the small stove had burned out; the last wisp of weak flame extinguished, and the wine was gone.

Unnoticed, the small boat swayed gently and came to rest by the bank, though not at the spot where Ye Qin had first gone ashore.

I had thought it would take a while to dock, but it pulled ashore much sooner than expected.

The mountains on both banks stretched continuously, utterly different from the original scenery; unnoticed, the light boat had passed countless peaks, the green hills seeming unchanged while in fact they had undergone moment-to-moment transformation.

It felt as if only a few seconds had passed, yet also as if an entire century had elapsed.

After the boat docked, however, the old man began to take off his raincoat.

Seeing the old man's action, Ye Qin asked curiously, "Why is this?"

The old man replied solemnly, "I'm fishing for a sword."

Ye Qin was somewhat startled and blurted out, "But your sword already fell into the river—how could you possibly fish it up?"

The old man pointed to the mark he had earlier carved on the boat, confident as if everything were under his control: "With this mark as proof, naturally I can retrieve it."

Though the old man is clearly a wise person—one could see some of that from the conversation, even a great wisdom—how could he act so foolishly? It truly does not match the image he had previously shown.

His sword had fallen into the river; although he had made a mark at the time, it was only relative to that moment, and now the boat keeps moving, having docked—how could one possibly find it by following that old mark?

Their times are not at the same point.

If the boat were stationary, then with the sword sunk to the bottom, marking the spot where it fell off the boat and following that mark downward, one could naturally find it.

But if the sword lies unmoving on the bottom, or is swept away by the river current, while the boat keeps moving, the distance between them is destined to grow ever farther, becoming parallel lines that can never meet.

Given the old man's wisdom, he ought to understand such an obvious principle.

After all, just now from the conversation on the black-canopied boat, Ye Qin had already sensed the old man's extraordinariness.

But before Ye Qin could stop him, there was a "plop"—the old man had already jumped into the water, kicking up huge waves, and the boat gave a slight shake.

Watching the ripples spread across the water, Ye Qin felt genuinely helpless; he could not fathom how this seemingly sage, extraordinary old man would do something so ridiculous.

Unable to help himself, Ye Qin laughed aloud on the bank, teasing the old man that his move was not wise.

That sword, the old man is destined never to find.

After a moment, the old man surfaced to breathe; though aged, his form was nimble, like a great white fish continually rolling in the river water.

Seeing the old man's empty hands, exactly as Ye Qin had expected, he smiled and said, "Old man, old man, you won't find it."

The old man smiled without answering, then dove in again.

After a moment, bubbles gurgled up on the river surface, and the old man rose again—this time holding a rusted iron sword!

The blade was mottled with rust, its original color obscured; every mark was corrosion from the river water, pitted and uneven, as if it had lain long on the riverbed, yet no one expected it to see the light of day again.

Look, isn't this found?

Ye Qin's expression showed some surprise; this sword, clearly rusted all over, was obviously one that had lain at the river bottom for a long time—certainly not the sword the old man had previously dropped into the water.

I didn't expect the old man to be so stubborn—isn't this just self-deception?

Ye Qin shook his head helplessly and sighed, "Finding the sword is useless; the sword is no longer the original sword."

The old man stroked his beard, smiled, pointed at Ye Qin, then pointed at his own chest, and answered, "Actually, the sword hasn't been lost; isn't the sword stuck in your heart?"

(End of chapter)