Chapter 187 Undercurrent
The neighbors looked at each other, and finally, Aunt Zhang who sold embroidery thread couldn't help but step forward.
She was Aunt Wang's longtime sister of many years. Usually, the two of them always got together to stitch shoe soles and chat about daily life, their relationship being the closest.
"Child," Aunt Zhang rubbed her hands, her tone both pained and anxious, "your mother has not had it easy these twenty years! When your father left back then, you were only this tall—" she gestured to a height reaching her waist, "your mother woke up early and stayed up late grinding tofu, her hands covered entirely in calluses. Now that you've made something of yourself, how could you instead..."
These words were like opening a floodgate, and the neighbors immediately began to persuade in a cacophony of voices:
"That's right! Even if you cultivate immortality, you can't forget your roots!"
"Your mother hasn't even been willing to buy a new dress all these years..."
The young man suddenly turned around and ripped open his moon-white brocade robe. Under the sunlight, his strong upper body was horrifyingly covered in scars, new wounds overlapping old ones, like a ferocious map.
"My son!" Aunt Wang exclaimed, the tofu spoon in her hand clattering to the ground. She staggered forward, her trembling hands suspended in mid-air, wanting to touch but not daring to. "How... how did this happen? Does it hurt?" Tears streamed down her face, her voice changing in pitch, "So you've actually been suffering so much outside?"
At this moment, all the neighbors fell silent, and even Chen Chang'an couldn't help but show a curious expression, thinking there must be some hidden story.
Then, the young man pointed to a three-inch-long scar on his chest: "This was from a few years ago, before I stepped into the immortal gate, when I passed by Black Wind Ridge and encountered road-blocking bandits, taking a knife for a traveling merchant."
After speaking, he pointed to a wound on his ribs, "Two years ago when the Clear Water River burst its banks, I exhausted my spiritual power to save a drowning child, and was finally injured by the rubble carried in the water."
He began to incessantly explain the origins of the wounds on his body. With each one he described, Aunt Wang would shudder, her tears flowing even more fiercely.
But the neighbors gradually quieted down, their expressions becoming increasingly strange.
The butcher Zhao finally couldn't help but interrupt: "Young man, even if you perform chivalrous deeds every day, what does that have to do with being filial to your mother?"
The young man straightened his back, his gaze firmly sweeping across the crowd, his voice clear and powerful:
"I appreciate the kind intentions of all you uncles and aunts. But a cultivator should take all living beings as their responsibility. How can they neglect public duty for private matters?"
He pointed to the deepest knife scar on his chest, his tone becoming more impassioned: "This knife saved the lives of a family of seven! If I had stood by and done nothing then, they would have already perished at the hands of mountain bandits!"
Old Man Li who sold sugar figurines couldn't help but interject: "But your mother only has you as her son!"
The young man shook his head, his eyes burning: "Uncle Li, do you know, in this world, how many mothers like mine exist? Their sons might have died in wars, or perished in famines, without even having the chance to be filial! And I—" he patted his chest, "I have the ability to save more people. Should I, for my own selfish feelings, watch helplessly as other families are destroyed?"
Aunt Zhang was so anxious she stamped her feet: "But your mother has suffered for half her life, just hoping you could enjoy life after making something of yourself!"
The young man's expression remained unchanged, but his tone became even more resolute: "Aunt Zhang, you're right, mother has indeed suffered for half her life. But precisely because of this, I cannot let her down! She taught me to be an upright person and to hold kindness in my heart. If I only care about my own small family today, that would be truly betraying her teachings!"
He pointed again to the wound on his ribs and continued: "On the day the Clear Water River burst its banks, if I hadn't gone to save people, at least a dozen children would have drowned. Their mothers would have been heartbroken, just like my mother!"
Aunt Wang was already crying too much to speak, just tightly clutching her son's sleeve. The young man gently held his mother's hand, his voice softening: "Mother, do you remember when I was little, you always said 'one should live with a clear conscience'? What I'm doing now is exactly the principle you taught me."
The butcher Zhao couldn't help but snort coldly: "Nice words! But your mother raised you all this time, and you just leave like this?"
The young man's gaze was like a torch, staring directly at Butcher Zhao: "Uncle Zhao, you wake up early and stay up late every day to kill pigs and sell meat, isn't that also to support your family? But if one day, you saw someone committing violence on the street, would you continue selling meat, or would you step in to help?"
Butcher Zhao was momentarily at a loss for words.
The young man seized the opportunity to continue: "Cultivators have long lifespans. My departure today is to prevent more mothers from suffering the pain of losing a child! Isn't this a greater form of filial piety?"
He pointed to a burn on his shoulder, "A few years ago, do you remember that Immortal Spirit City was not as complete as it is now? A medicine shop caught fire back then, and I rushed in to carry out a paralyzed old woman. When her son knelt to thank me, I thought—if all children in the world could help each other like this, how wonderful that would be!"
The neighbors looked at each other, momentarily unsure how to refute.
The teahouse waiter muttered: "But... but what about Aunt Wang?"
The young man took a deep breath and took out a brocade pouch from his robes: "Inside are life-prolonging pills, enough for mother to live a long life."
He turned to his mother, his eyes filled with tears: "Mother, I am not being unfilial, it's just... there are too many people in this world who need help!"
Aunt Wang took the pouch with trembling hands, tears pattering down onto it. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end, just nodded gently.
The young man breathed a sigh of relief and solemnly bowed to the neighbors: "You are all elders who watched me grow up. Every word I've spoken today comes from the heart. I hope you can understand my choice to forsake small love for the sake of greater righteousness!"
He spoke with passion, the sunlight shining on his scarred yet straight-as-a-pine body, giving him a tragic air reminiscent of "If I don't enter hell, who will?"
Chen Chang'an finally couldn't listen anymore. He stood up and spoke in a clear voice: "You keep saying you want to forsake small love for the sake of greater righteousness."
"But have you ever considered, how can a person who neglects their own kin claim to understand great love?"
The young man's expression faltered, and just as he was about to rebut, Chen Chang'an raised a hand to stop him: "You listen to me finish."
"You say saving one life is better than building a seven-story pagoda, but your mother raised you through hardship. Is that kindness not worth repaying? You say you want to protect all living beings, but you can't even protect the mother who gave birth to you and raised you. How can you speak of protecting the world?"
The young man's face gradually turned pale. Chen Chang'an continued: "You think leaving behind pills and money is being filial? Is that what your mother wants? All she wants is for you to come home often, to let her know you're safe."
"If you can't even take care of the person in front of you, what right do you have to speak of saving the world and helping the people?"
The neighbors nodded in agreement, and Aunt Wang's tears flowed again.
The young man opened his mouth but found himself speechless.
At that moment, a loud laugh suddenly came from the street corner. A monk wearing an apricot-yellow kasaya strode over, holding prayer beads, his face benevolent yet with a hint of arrogance.
"Amitabha!" The monk put his palms together and laughed, his voice like a great bell. "All of your arguments are but delusions! What of a mother? What of a father? You must know that all living beings are equal, all are the convergence of causes and conditions. Why be attached to just one person?"
His gaze swept over everyone, finally landing on the young man, and he nodded with approval: "This benefactor forsakes small love for the sake of greater righteousness, truly the heart of a bodhisattva! The suffering in the world is endless. If everyone only cared for their own family, who would save the countless living beings?"
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