CHAPTER 72

  A New Path

  I noticed Abbot Mo standing at the doorway, the letter he had just read still clutched in his hand. His usually serene face was lined with worry, and I could see the faintest tremble in his fingers. Something was terribly wrong.

  “Abbot Mo, you seem distressed,” I said gently as I approached him. “Is something the matter?”

  He sighed deeply, his gaze locking with mine, a mixture of concern and resignation reflected on his face. “The marquis’s men have left Donghai and are heading straight for this city. My lookout estimates they will arrive by noon tomorrow.”

  The weight of his words struck me immediately. If I didn’t leave soon, I would be endangering Abbot Mo and the other monks in this monastery. “Then I must leave,” I said firmly, my resolve unshaken.

  “Luo Fan,” he replied, his voice steady but kind, “you’ve only been here for a little over a week. Your recovery is far from complete. Your eyes are still weak, your energy is depleted, and your body is not yet stable. Even if you could travel, you would collapse before you reach the next city.”

  “I know my condition, Abbot Mo,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “But I cannot allow your monastery to be implicated because of me. If even one life is lost here because of my troubles, I will never be able to forgive myself.”

  His expression softened, though the worry did not leave his eyes. “You are a virtuous soul, Luo Fan, but your sense of guilt will lead you into danger. Where will you go if you leave?”

  “You mentioned the Storm Surge Sect in Xianru. I will head there and seek their guidance.”

  “Xianru Empire is Sect Leader Ruan’s territory,” he reminded me, his tone cautious. “Are you not afraid you might encounter him again?”

  The mere mention of Ruan Yanjun’s name stirred a familiar mix of anger and sorrow inside me. “Xianru Empire is vast. The chances of us crossing paths are slim, and he has no reason to pursue me anymore. He has already discarded me. I doubt he cares where I am or what happens to me now.”

  Abbot Mo’s frown deepened, but he nodded after a long pause. “Very well. If that is your decision, I will not stop you. But I must warn you, the road to the southern empire is long and treacherous. Your journey will not be easy.”

  “I understand, Abbot Mo, but I have no other choice. Staying here will only bring trouble to you and your people. I cannot allow that.”

  His sigh was heavy with unspoken words. “If you insist on going, then so be it. But I will do what I can to stall the marquis’ men and buy you time. I will also prepare medicines to help you along your journey. You will need them.”

  I lowered my head in gratitude. “Thank you, Abbot Mo. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”

  He turned away, his robes swishing softly as he walked toward the preparation room. I watched him go, my heart heavy with both gratitude and sadness. Just when I had found a safe haven and someone I could trust, I was being forced to leave once more.

  While waiting for Abbot Mo, I wandered through the monastery one final time before my departure, eventually finding myself back in the chamber where I had awakened after plunging from the cliff.

  I took in the small meditation room that had been my refuge. The light from the skylight above painted the room in hues of peace and serenity, but it only served to remind me of the restlessness that awaited me outside these walls. The road was harsh, and the world beyond this monastery offered no comfort, only dangers I could not yet fully face.

  The weight of the journey ahead pressed on my chest, but there was also a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the Storm Surge Sect truly held the answers I sought. Perhaps there, I could finally find a way to reconcile the war within me.

  But a nagging thought lingered at the back of my mind. Would the sect still exist after all these years, or was I chasing an illusion?

  Either way, there was no turning back now.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  *****

  The night was unusually quiet, as though the entire monastery was holding its breath in anticipation of my departure. I sat by the window in my room, the cool breeze brushing against my face. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow muted by dark clouds creeping across its surface.

  I stared at the scene, unable to tear my gaze away. In the moon and the clouds, I saw a reflection of my own internal struggle. The dark clouds seemed like my dark core, encroaching upon the serene brightness of the moon, my light core. Yet, no matter how much the clouds tried to cover it, the moon's light pierced through, persistent and undiminished.

  It dawned on me that this might be the balance I needed to achieve. A balance where the dark and light coexisted, not as enemies trying to obliterate one another but as forces in harmony. It was a lofty goal, one that seemed nearly impossible given the chaos within me, but for the first time, I felt like there was a sliver of hope.

  Abbot Mo's words echoed in my mind. “Acceptance does not mean surrendering to darkness. It means finding peace with what we cannot change and learning to deal with it.”

  I wasn’t sure if I could ever fully embrace the dark core within me, but the idea that there might be others like me—others who had faced and conquered this same struggle—stirred a sense of purpose within me, one I hadn’t felt in years.

  I had a new goal now. My old dream of reclaiming my cultivation and standing among the grandmasters of this world remained, but I knew my path would no longer be as straightforward as I had envisioned. I might have to stray from the righteous road I had so meticulously planned for myself.

  But deviating from the path didn’t mean abandoning it altogether. I would hold on to my principles, no matter how twisted and winding the journey became. The detours, the sacrifices, and even the darkness—none of it would define me.

  I leaned my head against the cool windowpane and stared into the darkened sky. My thoughts turned to Guidao Island, to the Storm Surge Sect. It was my only lead, my one hope of finding guidance. If the sect truly held the answers, I might finally discover how to tame the chaos within me.

  Though I dreaded the journey ahead, my resolve was unshakable. This was no longer just about survival. It was about reclaiming the dignity stolen from me—by my blood relatives, my master, and most of all… Ruan Yanjun.

  The mere thought of him left a bitter taste in my mouth. I swore I would never cross paths with that man again. Xianru Empire was vast, and I would choose the most obscure and arduous routes to ensure our paths remained separate. Be it mountains, rivers, or deserts, I didn’t care what challenges awaited me, so long as they kept me far from him.

  I closed my eyes and let the stillness of the night envelop me. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to grieve all that I had lost—my home, my betrothed, and the person I used to be. But the sorrow was fleeting, overtaken by the steady flame of resolve now burning in my chest.

  When I opened my eyes again, the faint glow of dawn filtered into the room. At some point, I must have drifted off.

  I stood and stretched, feeling a renewed sense of determination settle in my bones. The first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, chasing away the remnants of the night. It was time to leave the sanctuary of the monastery behind and face the uncertainty of the road ahead.

  I gathered my belongings, everything already prepared the night before. With a deep breath, I stepped out of my room, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath my feet. The hall was suffused with the soft light of dawn, and in the center of the corridor stood Abbot Mo, his hands clasped behind his back.

  As I approached, he turned to me, his serene expression steady as always. But then he held something out toward me—a stick wrapped in familiar silk.

  “Don’t forget this,” he said, his voice calm but warm.

  My heart skipped a beat when I saw it. The silk cloth wrapped around the handle was unmistakable, its embroidered patterns still pristine despite everything that had happened.

  I gasped, my hands trembling slightly as I took the stick from him. It felt solid and reassuring in my grip, like reuniting with an old friend I thought I had lost forever.

  “I… I thought I’d never see this again,” I murmured, staring at the stick as if it held fragments of my past.

  “It seems that thing is special to you,” he observed, his gentle eyes watching me.

  “It is,” I replied, my voice firm but tinged with emotion. “It’s a gift from someone… someone who has passed away. That’s why I cherish it.”

  “Ah,” he said with a nod, understanding flickering in his expression. “I should have returned it to you sooner, then. I thought it was just your walking stick.”

  I lowered my head, cupping my hands in gratitude. “Thank you, Abbot Mo. Thank you for saving this stick along with me. I owe you more than my life now.”

  He chuckled softly. “You treat that stick like a prized weapon.”

  “To me, it is more than that,” I said, my grip tightening around it.

  “Then I’m glad it’s back in the right hands.” He smiled, but his face turned somber as he added, “As much as I’d like to converse with you more, it’s best that you leave now. It isn’t safe for you here any longer.”

  I met his gaze, my chest tightening. “I will never forget your kindness, Abbot Mo. You gave me refuge when I had nowhere else to turn.”

  He inclined his head. “And you, Priest Luo, have reminded me why we walk the path of righteousness. The world is harsh, but it is in acts like these that we find meaning. Take care of yourself, and may the heavens guide your steps.”

  I bowed deeply, the stick clutched tightly in one hand. “Farewell, Abbot Mo. Until we meet again.”

  As I straightened and turned to leave, I glanced back one last time. The sight of him standing there, his hands folded calmly in front of him, would remain with me. A sense of bittersweetness washed over me as I stepped out into the world once again, my path uncertain but my resolve strengthened.