Moonlit: I just noticed that in the raws, it was always Ye Jian and not Ye Qian. However, I’ve been using Ye Qian so I’ll be changing that. Of course, I’ll also change the previous chapters. I’ll be using Ye Jian.
Volume 3: Deep Blue Sea
The aircraft rested at the bottom of the continent, the crystalline, azure sea illuminating everything around it, making the aircraft’s lighting unnecessary. The people could already see everything in the sea clearly.
This continent, which should have long been submerged by the sea and drawn down by the Earth’s gravity, stood firmly amidst the endless waves. The summit of the continent remained still, as if it were the belief formed by the beings of this world, never having wavered even slightly.
Beneath the vast, seemingly boundless continent, countless merman remained at its base. The Spirit Tides clan’s size was not as enormous as other beings; instead, it resembled the size of the evolutionary beings of the current cosmic era.
After nearly two months in the “Deep Blue Sea”, they finally saw the only remaining evolutionary race in this world. With the arrival of the aircraft, the Spirit Tides clan’s ethereal and beautiful singing gradually faded. They were scattered at the bottom of the continent, gently swaying their fish tails. The graceful blue tails moved softly in the water, creating waves, fluttering like wings. Each tail contributed to the floating power of the continent. For centuries, the Spirit Tides clan had resisted gravity with their own bodies, carrying the body of the fallen clans day after day, holding onto a hope that might never be fulfilled. Even in the face of their end today, they had never left.
Beneath the continent, not far from the sea’s bottom, lay the burial grounds of the Spirit Tides clan. Over hundreds of years, even the highly resilient Spirit Tides clan could not escape death. During this long time, the Spirit Tides clan witnessed not only the weakening of the fallen clans but also their own decline. Above them were the weathered remains of the fallen clans, beneath them were the fallen clan members. In such circumstances, how could they keep their tears from falling? The azure tears that illuminated the entire world were each a symbol of sorrow and a memorial.
The blue eyes and blue hair were the most striking marks of their birth in the sea. What was once a tender color had been dyed by the long years into steadfastness and perseverance. Even knowing that death awaited below, they remained unwavering, clinging to a belief that turned the ground into a prison, confining their freedom for centuries.
At the edge of the continent, Shu Xun and the others stopped. The little merman excitedly flicked his tail and then leaped down from Meng Muyu’s head, skillfully waving his tail as he swam towards the nearby kin.
Meng Muyu, feeling a pang of loss, touched the top of his head and murmured, “Little rascal, not even a backward glance.”
As soon as he spoke, the little merman, who had been swimming energetically, suddenly stopped. He turned back, gently swaying his tail to float in the water. Ling Yang did not speak but seriously looked at everyone as if trying to imprint their images deeply in his mind. This parting might mean never seeing them again, and the short time spent together was an irreplaceable treasure in his life. Then, the little merman raised his small arms and waved vigorously in farewell. “Goodbye, friends. Goodbye, Meng Muyu…”
As the azure tears were about to fall, Ling Yang suddenly turned around and swam rapidly towards the bottom of the continent, where the kin he had been eagerly searching for awaited. The little merman quickly reached the bottom of the continent. Though the distance was far, the onlookers could not hear their words, yet they could clearly see the uncontainable joy on their faces. The little merman swam agilely among his kin, occasionally coming up to rub his face against them, showing an excited and dependent demeanor. In the end, like other Spirit Tides, the little merman held the bottom of the continent with his small, earnest arms.
The grass also drifted out of the aircraft’s range, floating in the sea and gently swaying its leaf tips in farewell. As the entrance of the aircraft began to close, Shu Xun and the others returned inside. Just as the aircraft was about to start up again, a grass leaf tip suddenly peeked out from the transparent panoramic window.
Shu Xun, who had been feeling somewhat down, immediately brightened up. He walked to the window, and when the grass leaf tip realized it had been noticed, it pressed itself flat against the glass. Shu Xun extended his fingertip and tapped the grass leaf through the glass. The grass leaf then wiggled on the glass like a little caterpillar, persistently searching even though it knew it wouldn’t find an entrance. In this world, only the grass was born for Shu Xun, and the bond between Shu Xun and the grass was an invisible and unbreakable connection.
Shu Xun sighed softly, feeling a heaviness in his heart. A strong hand fell on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw the expressionless Ye Jian. Ye Jian had approached Shu Xun and, watching the grass outside the glass, suddenly extended his index finger and began to write on the glass. The grass leaf stopped its movements and watched Ye Jian.
Transference of the Contract, Life and Death Follow.
The faint marks on the transparent glass lingered for a long time, clearly visible to Shu Xun and the grass. Shu Xun’s eyes, like ink, sparkled with a gleam of light, and a subtle, almost imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of his lips. The white-clad youth and the stern-faced man stood by the window, with the crystal-clear blue sea outside. The light cast by the sea through the glass enveloped the two of them, creating a scene that was both serene and profoundly serious.
The spaceship had not yet started due to the grass’s actions on the window and remained stationed at the seabed. The grass tilted its leaf as if appraising Ye Jian, and eventually, the tip of the leaf began to glow with a soft, verdant radiance. The gentle, life-filled light slowly passed through the glass and gradually merged with Ye Jian’s fingertip. Along with the green light, the eight characters on the glass vanished, leaving no trace. Seeing the now clear glass, Shu Xun’s gaze revealed a moment of realization.
The grass, reluctant to easily trust others with the contract’s transference, modified the contract, incorporating the content written by Ye Jian into it. Observing Ye Jian’s impassive expression, Shu Xun understood that this added condition was clearly agreed upon by Ye Jian.
After the contract’s transference, the grass suddenly sharpened the tip of its leaf and shook it at Ye Jian, conveying a strong threat. It then tapped the glass to attract Shu Xun’s attention, shook the leaf tip once more at Shu Xun, and then detached itself from the glass, drifting backward.
The spaceship began to start up and slowly ascended into the sky. Its speed increased, and the small green grass quickly disappeared into the vast sea. Shu Xun stood by the window for a long time, his gaze fixed on the place where the grass had once been, until his eyes grew slightly sore and he blinked, suppressing the moisture in his eyes.
Cultivators, by nature, are often aloof and indifferent. Only such people can endure the lonely practice of asceticism and avoid the entanglements of karmic cycles. Shu Xun believed that living alone for twenty years had already steadied his emotions. However, in this world, everything with a hint of enlightenment can disturb you as long as you are alive. But does he regret it? No, on the contrary, he finds it sweet as honey!
If eternal life is only endless loneliness, if one can still enjoy it, then life is still bearable. If not, what use is eternal life? At this moment, Shu Xun suddenly realized what he truly sought in eternal life. Some people may never understand this even after a lifetime of cultivation, while others may grasp it in a single thought. From an unseen angle, the youth’s ink-black eyes became even clearer in an instant, like stars.
“Is that person me?” Ye Jian, who had been silently standing nearby, suddenly asked out of the blue.
If it were someone else, they might not understand what Ye Jian was saying at all. But Shu Xun was particularly sensitive to this question and instantly realized that Ye Jian was referring to the line about someone who can make up for all the mismatches. Shu Xun blinked, a hint of a smile on his lips, and said, “If I say it’s not you, would you feel like you’ve lost out?”
Under the azure light, Ye Jian actually smiled, not with a chilling, sinister grin but with a somewhat smug and childlike smile. He raised his hand with the previous contract. “I’ve already gained.”
Shu Xun was momentarily speechless. Only someone like Ye Jian would boast about gaining in such a situation. The white-clad youth looked at Ye Jian and suddenly smiled, his eyes curving into gentle crescents. His clear, melodious laughter made the jade-like youth appear less ethereal and more vivid. The laughter gradually faded, and the youth’s eyes remained clear. “It’s you. Thank you for reaching out to accept the special me. Thank you for your pocket, which allowed me to safely endure Winter’s End. But this gratitude has, without my own realization, turned into another kind of feeling. Perhaps it’s because there are too few things in this world for me to care about, and you just happen to be the special one among them, Ye Jian.” Shu Xun’s voice paused, his tone losing its warmth and gaining a touch of seriousness and solemnity. He extended his hand, and the tip of his finger suddenly glowed with a green light. “The contract is established, life and death are intertwined.”
Ye Jian’s hand trembled, instinctively lifting to meet Shu Xun’s palm. But at the moment of imminent contact, Ye Jian hesitated. He knew that the contract transferred by the grass had added his own vow: as long as he was alive, he had to stay by Shu Xun’s side. Even if Shu Xun were to die, Ye Jian would be bound by the condition of life and death intertwined and would also die. However, Shu Xun would not be constrained by this condition, as the grass’s gift to Shu Xun was a token of the world’s consciousness, implying a hierarchical relationship. Now, Shu Xun wanted to change the contract to an equal one.
It might be hard for anyone to imagine that a stoic and indifferent man, who was incredibly confident, would one day take pleasure in having signed a contract with a hierarchical relationship. Was it love at first sight? No. Although Ye Jian was indeed momentarily struck by the grown-up Shu Xun’s allure, he clearly understood that it was merely admiration. Perhaps, as Shu Xun said, over time, a person accumulates weight in one’s heart bit by bit, slowly but never stopping, eventually becoming something that can’t be put down, something that weighs on the mind. It goes unnoticed until touched, at which point one realizes the depth of feeling.
Shu Xun’s hand remained extended, waiting quietly.
Ye Jian, however, lowered his hand, his expression as blank as ever, but seeming even more rigid than usual.
Shu Xun sighed softly, understanding Ye Jian’s hesitation. Ye Jian was questioning the concept of eternal life he had discussed with Ling Yang and Leng Bei1If you’ve forgotten(like me), Leng Bei was the name of the green grass.. Although the evolutionists of the cosmic era had extended their lifespans many times over, and some of the Phantom clans had near-infinite lifespans, life still had an end. On the other hand, the end of cultivation is eternal life without death.
Ye Jian knew his lifespan could not match Shu Xun’s, making the vow of life and death intertwined feel exceedingly heavy, so heavy that he hesitated to lift his hand.
Shu Xun sighed again and, with the green light on his fingertip fading, it shifted to a soft white glow. He gently touched Ye Jian’s forehead, and a moment of enlightenment about eternal life that Shu Xun had recently realized was clearly transmitted into Ye Jian’s mind. It was Shu Xun’s own definition of eternal life.
Eternal life, for him, means either being alone as a mountain spirit, requiring no extraordinary talent, just a clear and pure mind. Without greed or illusion, free from sorrow, living in a quiet corner by a small bridge and flowing water, remaining unaware throughout a lifetime.
Or, finding someone to support each other, to face storms together, and to enjoy the mundane world in retreat. If one lives for a hundred years, the other will accompany them for a hundred years; if one lives for a thousand years, the other will enjoy a thousand years of sunlight with them.
As one ages, the other will also age, staying with them through graying hair and wrinkles. When one sleeps eternally, the other will forgo eternal life to share the same grave and dust with them. If one lives eternally, the other will accompany them in exploring the three thousand worlds and appreciating the six realms and eight desolations.
Moonlit: Who’s cutting onions? (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)
