Chapter 63: Reentering Chaos

Inside the gloomy, dark cave, Ye Qin did not know how long he had slept; he felt dazed and struggled to open his eyes.

Since he began cultivating, his sleep time has been short, because for him cultivation itself is rest, able to replenish his daily vital essence.

Even during the serpents' hibernation, he remained active, able to resist his innate lethargy.

Now that spring has returned to the earth and all things revive, Ye Qin feels a long-lost cold and fatigue, as if countless ants were boring into his bones, gnawing at his aging organs.

Ye Qin merely shifted his body slightly, feeling as if a thousand-pound burden weighed upon him, and he flicked his snake's tongue.

His originally bright red snake's tongue now showed a dark reddish hue, looking quite unhealthy.

Ye Qin slowly glanced at the white bone beside him.

"I fear I can no longer keep you company in the days to come; perhaps in a few years I too will become like you, weathered into a skeleton."

He had a vague sense of foreboding.

During this period Ye Qin failed to break through into the Third Realm; perhaps this is all he can achieve in this life.

The white bone remained silent, neither sad nor joyful.

Ye Qin sighed, laboriously crawled out, and could clearly feel his crawling speed slowing down.

Previously reaching the mountain summit took only a few minutes, but now it takes over ten minutes, each time slower than the last, this time even half an hour.

Most importantly, he felt an unprecedented fatigue.

Both internal and external, whether mental or spiritual.

The surroundings teemed with life, forming a stark contrast with Ye Qin, who resembled an old man entering his twilight years, lugging a worn-out bellows, panting as he operated.

If the Ye Qin who first embarked on cultivation was like a rising morning sun, now the setting sun is about to fall, and his life is nearing its end.

This is not yet what frightens him most.

Until he discovered that his absorption of moonlight was slowing ever more; aging affected not only his body but also his cultivation.

Originally unable to enter the Third Realm, now it's worse—his cultivation speed has slowed, even stalled.

In the face of birth, aging, sickness, and death, all beings are equal; even cultivators are no exception, and if they cannot prolong their lifespan, they are no different from ordinary folk.

The flourishing and withering of plants return to the myriad phenomena; human life turns within the wheel.

Ye Qin lay coiled upon a stone, his vital essence slowly dissipating, and even his serpent scales looked dim.

Ashen and dull, they no longer held their former brightness.

His time is drawing near.

This thought arose in his mind.

This day has still arrived.

Ye Qin had thought he would panic and grow anxious, but when this day truly arrived, he felt at peace.

Animals seem to have a presentiment of their own life and death; some, when nearing death, will voluntarily leave the group, find a place, and quietly await their end.

Ye Qin is no different.

Tonight the moon is especially bright, large and round, shedding a soft silver glow that illuminates the mountains.

But for Ye Qin now, it is of no use; he cannot even sense the energy of the moonlight's movement.

It is not that the moon has changed, but that he is gradually becoming ordinary, as deathly qi continually erodes the spiritual energy on his body.

He seems to have become an ordinary snake again, no different from the myriad of living beings.

Sometime ago, many small creatures gathered behind Ye Qin, seemingly sensing or perceiving the deathly qi emanating from him.

They appeared uneasy and restless; usually quiet small animals now stirred, emitting squeaking sounds.

Those small rodents kept digging at the ground with their claws.

Nightjars in the trees uttered mournful cries.

But they can do nothing; even Ye Qin cannot alter this fact—what can unenlightened animals do?

Perhaps they can only be spectators, seeing off Ye Qin as he welcomes death's arrival.

Ye Qin understood their goodwill.

"You've come to see me off, haven't you? Thank you, whoever you are; no one can escape death, so there's no need for this."

Pairs of pea-sized eyes stared at Ye Qin; the animals seemed to have understood his hissing, or else did not wish to disturb him.

The restless small animals gradually grew quiet, just as before.

Gazing at the moon hanging in the firmament, Ye Qin's heart-lake was unprecedentedly calm; the timeless bright moon rose slowly, its reflection shimmering on the water.

The reason he previously could not enter the Third Realm, combined with his approaching lifespan, left him continually anxious and restless, even to the point of being unsettled.

He utterly lacked the tranquility he once had when he began cultivating, contrary to his original intention.

As the saying goes, cultivation is also a refinement of the mind.

Now, at the true moment of facing death, Ye Qin discovered it was not as frightening as he had imagined.

People experience birth, aging, sickness, and death; ultimately all things return to nothingness.

In fact, he had already died in his previous life; this life he was reborn as a snake and embarked on cultivation, which is like gaining a few extra years—what more could he ask for?

Who could, like Ye Qin, tread the path of cultivation with a serpent's body and a human soul?

As a being unique under heaven and above earth.

That was something he dared not even imagine in his former life; such an experience cannot be replicated by any other being.

Thinking of this, Ye Qin gradually felt at ease.

Recalling the first day of his rebirth, when he mistakenly entered the cave and contemplated the white bone, thereby beginning his cultivation.

Later he punished the wicked, contemplated the Yin, and executed the Illusion Divine Ability.

Ye Qin glanced over the past; many scenes flashed in his mind, vivid as if they had happened yesterday, now all turned into fleeting clouds.

Though his life was brief, it was far from ordinary, and he did not feel he had come to this world in vain; now he harbors no regrets.

If one must speak, perhaps it is simply that he could not enter the Third Realm, missing the chance to see a vaster world.

Fatigue rose like a tide in his heart; Ye Qin felt his eyelids grow extremely heavy.

He slowly closed his eyes, his consciousness growing hazy, as if some invisible great hand seized him and yanked hard, his soul separating from his heavy body.

He felt a sense of ease, as if he had cast off all his shackles, free of the flesh's bonds, transcending this mundane world.

Sometimes, death is not another kind of liberation?

People fear death because they worry they will fall into nothingness.

But what is all of creation if not born from nothingness?

Ye Qin felt as if drenched in sweet dew, utterly at ease; his formerly muddled consciousness cleared again, as if he had inadvertently fallen into dust on the spirit platform, finally brushed away.

Between life and death, that profound and mysterious feeling surged once more in his heart.

Ye Qin seemed to sense something; sure enough, gray matter filled the surroundings, as if it possessed its own life, and he arrived again at that special space.

He had entered the meditative sudden-enlightenment state that ancient sages dreamed of.

(Chapter ends)