Chapter 424: The Great Tide Cannot Be Changed; Chen Guangrui, Heartbroken, Retires in Seclusion

As Chen Guangrui finished speaking, the talisman ignited without fire.

It transformed into a wisp of gray-white vapor, spiraling upward.

The vapor rapidly expanded in midair, causing the surrounding space to warp, then split open a fissure.

A figure in blue robes stepped out from the crack.

Su Chen appeared as Daoist Yichen, standing with hands behind his back, calmly gazing at Chen Guangrui kneeling on the ground.

A faint shadow of a dark-yellow bell flashed briefly at his third eye.

“Dong—”

A bell toll, audible only to Su Chen, echoed in his spiritual sea.

A strand of dark-yellow energy descended from the void, instantly enveloping the entire study.

Causality within the study was severed; heavenly fate became invisible.

Chen Guangrui snapped his head up, staring at the pale, otherworldly face before him, his eyes instantly reddening.

“Daoist, my son has been abducted,” Chen Guangrui pressed his palms against the floor. “I sealed the entire city—I found not even a shadow. It was them… those lofty gods and Buddhas, wasn’t it?”

Su Chen walked to the high-backed chair behind the desk and sat down.

He glanced at the broken brush on the desk and the scattered official documents.

Su Chen nodded slightly: “Indeed, this was personally orchestrated by the mighty Guanyin Bodhisattva. I told you before—your son’s destiny is that of Jin Chanzi, the Second Disciple of the Buddha. The Buddhist sect seeks to sever his earthly ties, draw him into their fold, subject him to trials, and send him westward to retrieve the true sutras. If he were to grow up safely under your care as Jiangzhou’s Department Magistrate, steeped in parental affection and worldly wealth, how could he ever purify his six senses?”

“In the end, the tide of fate cannot be changed,” Su Chen finally sighed.

Chen Guangrui let out a bitter laugh, laced with boundless sorrow.

“To purify his six senses, you must forcibly snatch away a three-year-old child? Must you tear apart flesh and blood?”

He pushed himself up from the floor tiles, his pent-up resentment, fury, and five years of suppressed endurance for his wife and child exploding at once.

“I, Chen E, have studied the sages’ texts and revered heaven and earth, gods and spirits. Five years ago, to protect my wife and child, I became Liu Hong, the murderer and bandit. I thought if I did well enough, if I kept my mouth shut and served as Jiangzhou’s Department Magistrate, I could deceive heaven and earth, securing my family’s safety.”

“I was wrong. In their eyes, we are less than ants—mere tools to sever my son’s earthly bonds. They wanted me dead, but I survived. They wanted my wife to abandon her child, but she refused—so they acted themselves.”

Chen Guangrui stepped back half a pace, straightened his disheveled everyday robes, then knelt again and bowed his head hard to the ground.

“I will no longer be their puppet,” he said, lifting his head, blood welling from his forehead. “I beg you, Daoist, use your immortal arts to take my family away! I renounce this position as Jiangzhou’s Department Magistrate—I renounce all worldly wealth and glory!”

Su Chen looked at him, a flicker of approval in his eyes.

To know when to advance and when to retreat is to break the deadlock.

For a mortal to retain even a sliver of clarity amid the schemes of gods and Buddhas is no small feat.

“Your son will not die. The Buddhist sect will ensure he grows up safely and teaches him supreme Dharma,” Su Chen rose. “If you wish to reunite with him someday, you must preserve your useful body.”

Su Chen swept his wide sleeve.

Two figures materialized suddenly within the study.

Yin Wenjiao clutched a half-finished child’s garment, her face filled with terror.

Zhang Shi stood beside her, her gaze blank as she scanned the surroundings.

Yin Wenjiao saw the man in everyday robes—“Liu Hong”—and then the blue-robed Daoist standing with arms behind his back. She recoiled in fear, her back slamming into the bookshelf.

“What are you doing? Give me back my son!”

Su Chen ignored her accusations. He raised his right hand and pointed his index finger toward Chen Guangrui’s third eye.

Gray-white primordial spiritual power surged from his fingertip, instantly engulfing Chen Guangrui.

The scar on Chen Guangrui’s face began to fade; his coarse bones cracked and popped as his burly frame shrank rapidly.

In barely two breaths, the brute Liu Hong—with his cruel face and monstrous demeanor—vanished.

In his place stood a slender scholar, with pale features, sharp brows, starlit eyes, and an unmistakable air of scholarly grace.

Yin Wenjiao froze.

The child’s garment slipped from her hand to the floor.

Her eyes widened, her breath halted, her mind went utterly blank.

“Guangrui…” Zhang Shi rubbed her cloudy eyes and extended her withered hand tremblingly.

Tears burst from Chen Guangrui’s eyes.

He strode forward and embraced his mother and wife tightly.

“Mother! Wenjiao! It’s me! I’m alive!”

Yin Wenjiao’s body stiffened. She stared fixedly at Chen Guangrui’s face, her hand trembling as she touched his cheek.

“You’re alive… then Liu Hong…” Her mind was in chaos.

The monster who had never touched her yet filled her with hatred—the man who swore a deadly oath to protect her child—was her long-mourned dead husband?

Chen Guangrui took a deep breath and, in the most concise terms, revealed the truth: the life-or-death ordeal at Hongjiang Ferry five years ago, Su Chen’s celestial deception, and the recent abduction of his son by the Buddhist sect.

“Wenjiao, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t impersonated him, none of us would be alive today.”

After hearing it, Yin Wenjiao collapsed into Chen Guangrui’s arms and wept uncontrollably.

Five years of daily torment, constant dread, hatred for the villain, and longing for her dead husband—all intertwined, now shattered open.

“My Yan’er…” Yin Wenjiao clutched Chen Guangrui’s robe, sobbing helplessly. “Why do they treat us like this…?”

“Yan’er will be fine. The Daoist said he has great fortune,” Chen Guangrui held his wife tightly, his gaze fixed on Su Chen.

Su Chen stood with arms behind his back, watching the family of three.

“Save your reunion for later,” Su Chen thought, and the shadow of the Chaotic Bell at his third eye slowly rotated.

An invisible force enveloped the three, severing their heavenly fate and causality.

The Jiangzhou Department Magistrate’s family vanished, becoming an unsolved case with no trace.

Even if Guanyin and Maitreya recalculated, they would find only emptiness.

“Let’s go.”

Su Chen swept his wide sleeve; primordial spiritual power wrapped around Chen Guangrui and his family.

Space tore open, and the four figures vanished instantly from the study.

…

On the southern edge of the Southern Chan Continent.

Far from civilization, a small human kingdom where Buddhist faith had yet to fully penetrate.

Amidst surrounding mountains, a secluded village held a few humble thatched cottages, scattered naturally.

Space rippled, and Su Chen appeared with Chen Guangrui and his family.

A fresh mountain breeze brushed their faces, carrying the scent of earth.

“This is a small kingdom on the Southern Chan Continent, where Buddhist faith has not yet reached,” Su Chen turned to Chen Guangrui. “From now on, your family will live here.”

Chen Guangrui looked around, adjusted his robe, and bowed deeply to Su Chen.

“Daoist, your grace in saving us is beyond repayment—even if I were to shatter my body and bones, I could not repay you.”

Su Chen waved his hand.

“Live well. Perhaps one day, you will see your child again.”

Su Chen’s figure slowly faded, dissolving into specks of blue light that vanished into the air.

Only one phrase lingered, echoing in the courtyard.

“When the time is ripe, someone will come to find you.”

Chen Guangrui stared at the spot where Su Chen had vanished, motionless for a long time.

Zhang Shi, supported by Yin Wenjiao, stepped into the thatched cottage.

Though humble, the interior held all necessary household items—clearly arranged by Su Chen’s casual magic.

Chen Guangrui opened a chest and pulled out a blue Confucian scholar’s robe.

He removed the brocade everyday robe that marked him as Jiangzhou’s Department Magistrate and threw it into the courtyard’s firepit.

He lit the garment; flames rose, reducing it to ash.

Chen Guangrui donned the blue scholar’s robe and walked to the wooden gate of the courtyard.

He gazed far toward the east—the direction of the Great Tang.

The mountain wind stirred his robe.

“Yan’er.”

Chen Guangrui’s voice was low, yet resolute.

“Father waits for you to grow. One day, I will tell you all the truth. I will make you see the true face of those lofty gods and Buddhas!”