Chapter 174: Traveling Through Ten Thousand Hardships of the Mortal Dust, Only to Know the Great Dao is Inherently Solitary

After a steady spring rain that year, greenery peeked through the mud of Haoyang Alley, and moss crept up the stone steps beneath the eaves. The alley remained the same; the parasol trees stood in their usual spots, and the bluestone slabs still bore the shallow depressions worn by countless footsteps.

But Haoyang Alley had gained a little fairy physician.

Her surname was Zhang, and everyone in the alley called her Xiao Ling'er.

She cured many strange illnesses that left mortal clinics helpless, asking for neither money nor fame. When people brought eggs to thank her, she accepted them with a smile, only to turn around and slip them to the starving children next door.

She still lived in the clinic. A wind chime hung beneath the eaves, tinkling whenever a breeze swept by, as if answering on someone's behalf.

Ten years was neither long nor short.

The parasol trees had shed their leaves ten times and sprouted just as many. The residents of the alley had changed faces; some left, some arrived, some grew old, and some married.

Li Daniu's courtyard remained empty. Word had it someone had bought the place, but no one ever moved in, nor did anyone tear it down. The wild weeds sprouting from the cracks in the walls flourished in spring and withered in autumn, year after year, as if guarding something for the family that used to live there.

Standing beneath the eaves of Azure Jade Pavilion, Jiuyou watched these people and these events as if watching a slowly flowing river.

He had seen the stubbornness of Boss Wang, who pinched pennies yet secretly helped his neighbors.

He had seen Physician Zhang use his thin, withered hands to write countless free prescriptions for the destitute who couldn't afford medicine.

He had seen Xiao Ling'er grow from a little girl who leaned on his counter to watch him carve jade into a young woman with a quiet serenity resting on her brow.

She still didn't have much of a cultivation base. A decade had passed, and she was only at the Fourth Level of Qi Refining, yet she was already the little fairy physician everyone in Haoyang Alley recognized.

She had even learned to do as her grandfather did, telling her patients, "Don't worry, let's treat it first."

Jiuyou found that the stories of these mortals lacked earth-shattering twists and turns. For the most part, they were merely surviving day by day, yet they possessed something he rarely saw in cultivators.

They didn't seek immortality, so they treated every day with solemn care. They knew they would age, fall ill, and die, so they held tightly to every bond of affection.

Once upon a time, he had these things too.

A long time ago, before he became Grand Ancestor Jiuyou, before he became that giant of the Demonic Path who viewed all living beings as ants.

He lost them all later, discarded between slaughter and secluded cultivation, lost to the obsession of breaking through bottlenecks time and time again.

He had assumed those things were useless to begin with, nothing but fetters needed only by the weak.

But now, standing in the twilight of Haoyang Alley, watching Xiao Ling'er walk past the mouth of the alley with her medical box, watching Boss Wang bicker with the old woman next door as he packed up his stall, he suddenly felt that the things he had thrown away might not have been so worthless after all.

Mortals had their own Dao.

Their Dao wasn't found in the mountains or in the heavens, but right here in this alley, amidst the daily grind of firewood, rice, oil, and salt, amidst birth, aging, illness, and death. They didn't know what Mortal World Heart Tempering was, yet what they were doing was the very act of tempering the heart.

One afternoon, a weak bout of coughing echoed from the clinic's backyard.

Physician Zhang lay on an old wooden bed. The quilt covering him was washed pale, its edges frayed and spilling cotton wadding. His spine could barely touch the bedboards anymore, his entire body as thin as a rotting log. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest remained, like an oil lamp on the verge of burning out, holding on by its final flicker of flame.

Xiao Ling'er sat by his bedside, holding that cold, bony hand. She didn't know how long she had been keeping watch. The hands that had once picked her up and held her were now so light they felt as though the wind might carry them away at any moment.

The old physician turned his head to look at her, using the last ounce of his strength to muster a smile. His other hand still clutched the jade pendant engraved with the word "Peace." His thumb gently traced the strokes of the character, as if trying to commit it to memory.

"Ling'er... don't cry." His voice was as light as a whisper. "When Grandpa is gone... you have to take good care of yourself."

Xiao Ling'er didn't speak. She only squeezed his hand harder, as if doing so could keep him anchored to this world.

A faint cyan light bloomed in her hands and draped over her grandfather. Spiritual qi slowly flowed into his withered meridians. But those meridians were too old, like a dried-up riverbed; the moment the water reached them, it scattered and shattered.

She couldn't save him. The one person she wanted to save the most, the little fairy physician couldn't save.

The old physician gently pressed her hand, enveloping her palm within his own.

"Silly child... Grandpa isn't sick... Grandpa has just reached the end of the road." His voice was as low as the wind rustling against paper windows. He paused and smiled again. "To have you with me for this final stretch of my life... it was worth it."

He glanced at the jade pendant on his chest, then back at Xiao Ling'er, as if wanting to take her face with him into the next life. Then, he closed his eyes. His breathing grew shallower and shallower, like a candle flame slowly shrinking in the wind, until it finally extinguished.

Outside the window, the spring rain was still falling. Droplets of water fell from the eaves onto the stone steps—drip, drip—as if counting the hours for someone.

Xiao Ling'er knelt by the bed and buried her face in her grandfather's palm. She didn't cry out loud, but her shoulders trembled endlessly.

The next day, it rained in Haoyang Alley from morning until night.

Physician Zhang's coffin rested in the clinic's front courtyard. The lid was left open, and the old man lay inside, looking as if he had merely fallen asleep. The jade pendant still hung over his chest. His face was serene, as if he had just gone on a long trip.

Almost everyone in the alley came.

Boss Wang stood in the rain, his eyes bloodshot, wiping tears away while muttering curses under his breath, though who he was cursing, no one knew. The old woman from next door leaned on her cane and stood there for a long time without saying a word. She just stared at the man in the coffin, as if trying to get one last look, as if waiting to call out, "Old Zhang, you're back," just like she did every time he returned from a house call.

Dressed in mourning garb, Xiao Ling'er stood beside the coffin. She didn't shed a single tear the entire day; she simply stood there, keeping him company for his final journey.

When people came to comfort her, she nodded.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice so remarkably calm that it made their hearts ache even more.

She was like a tree bent by the wind, yet refusing to break.

It was already evening by the time Jiuyou arrived. He stood before the coffin and looked down at the serene face in silence for a moment. He saw the jade pendant engraved with the word "Peace," resting gently in the old man's hand, as if he were holding on to an unspoken promise.

He turned to look at Xiao Ling'er. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but swallowed the words back. Ultimately, he just took a step closer, reached out, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Xiao Ling'er, people always have to part." His voice was neither loud nor soft. "Sooner or later. But no matter what, life has to go on."

Xiao Ling'er looked up. Her eyes were red and tears swam in them, but she didn't let them fall. She gave a hard sniff and nodded at Jiuyou.

"Mm. Big Brother Qing is right. Even with Grandpa gone, I'll be fine," she said, her voice laced with a raspy hoarseness yet unusually resolute. "I still have everyone in Haoyang Alley, I still have patients to treat, and I still have..."

She paused, as if cheering herself on. "And a path I still have to walk."

As if afraid Jiuyou wouldn't believe her, she answered just like she had to his question ten years ago.

"Truly," she repeated. Her voice wasn't loud, but it felt as though it had taken root in the earth.

Looking into her extraordinarily clear eyes, which were still stained with tears, Jiuyou said nothing more; he only nodded. The rain had stopped at some unknown point. The twilight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, shining onto the wet bluestone slabs and glimmering like crushed gold.

When he turned and left the clinic, his steps were slower than when he arrived, as if a weight in his heart had finally settled. He walked back to Azure Jade Pavilion, pushed open the half-closed door, and sat down behind the counter. Outside the window, the twilight drew back inch by inch. The lamps remained unlit, leaving the shop submerged in gloom.

He sat there for a long time, listening to the wind blow in from outside, sweeping over the jade pieces displayed on the wooden shelves and creating the faintest of echoes.

Then, he spoke, his voice so light he seemed to be bidding farewell to something. "Traveling through ten thousand hardships of the mortal dust, only to know the Great Dao is inherently solitary. Experiencing all the love, hate, and foolish passions of the human realm, only then can one be free of ties and restraints."

He paused, then continued, "Knowing the warmth of human connection, one guards a peaceful heart. Knowing the constancy of life and death, one walks the path without panic. Severing the shackles of obsession, a peaceful heart is the journey home..." He stopped for a moment, looking out the window at the last sliver of sunset.

"So, this is true Mortal World Heart Tempering."