In the fourteenth year of Ai Gong's reign, Confucius acquired Lin and went into hiding.
The seventy-one-year-old Confucius still had the face of a thirty-year-old, and his figure was still tall and straight, but he looked even older than me, a ninety-one-year-old man.
He asked me for all the research results so far, including the method of inducing qi, meridian diagrams, and some insights on spiritual practice.
He said that he would devote himself to practice.
I do not believe.
He was clearly determined to die.
But I still gave him what he wanted.
He did not take Ge Tian away, but strode away alone. Not far away, someone hunched over to greet him, but Confucius slapped him and flew him far away.
Those are the people blocking the door wanting to become my teacher.
I stood in front of the door and watched Confucius go away, and saw a middle-aged man helping him into a carriage.
The middle-aged man seemed to notice my gaze, turned around and met my gaze, then bowed and saluted.
Somehow, I suddenly remembered what I had heard.
Among Confucius's disciples were some foreign races, and even pure-blooded dragons.
Of course, the majority are ordinary people.
I don’t know why those foreigners worshiped Confucius as their disciple, but I heard that many of them were forced to become their disciples after being beaten to the ground by Confucius.
If Confucius continues like this, what will happen to his ordinary disciples?
I didn't think anything further, I just arched my hand towards the middle-aged man next to the carriage.
Confucius left.
The last time he left, he held his head high, as if he was going to cleanse all injustices in the world.
This time he has not changed much, but his body and spirit are withered and no longer what he used to be.
This troubled world finally burned him out.
A few days later, while I was practicing in my room, there was a sudden sound of something breaking outside my room.
I went out and looked around, and I saw Ge Tianzheng holding a book of bamboo slips blankly, with broken pottery shards lying on the ground at his feet.
"What happened?"
Ge Tian was awakened by my voice, turned his head blankly, and said in a dry voice: "Senior Brother Yan Hui... is dead."
】
Of course I knew this man. He was Confucius' most proud disciple. He became Confucius' teacher at the age of thirteen. He was mentioned by Confucius many times in my exchanges with Confucius. Every time Yan Hui was mentioned, Confucius's face was full of pride and showoff.
Just such a disciple who had served Confucius all his life went to the underworld before Confucius.
This is probably a big blow to Confucius now.
The letter stated that Yan Hui died of overwork and fatigue while helping Confucius compile ancient classics.
Even Ge Tian wouldn't believe this reason.
I know that it was probably the so-called "disciples" of Confucius who had tampered with it.
However, Confucius is not dead yet.
They were so anxious to take action. Aren't they worried that Confucius would turn around and settle accounts with them?
I don't know what's going on.
Ge Tian rushed back to Lu State the night he received the letter, and he probably wouldn't be back for a long time.
I went back to living alone.
One person cracks firewood, another person carries water, and another person herds cattle.
My heart was still, and I seemed to be slowly entering an inexplicable state.
More and more people blocked the door to become my disciples. Only at this time could I feel the influence of Ge Tian.
Talking is also pretty good.
When facing these people, I did not refuse them as usual. Instead, I asked them three questions.
What is the heaven above?
What is God?
What is the way of this world?
The first two questions were asked by me as a child, and the last question was asked by me as a Taoist Laozi.
If you answer one of these three questions, you can worship me as your teacher.
With this threshold in place, there were indeed fewer people coming to be my disciples. Gradually, there were no more people in front of my door.
But for me, life has not changed much.
I still chop firewood by myself, carry water by myself, and herd cattle by myself.
Practice alone.
I also read through the brief books left by Ge Tian several times, and I realized that what he read were not all miraculous techniques, but also quite a few military books and strategies.
He might really build a big clan.
In the fifteenth year of Duke Ai's reign, Ge Tian sent a letter saying that he would not be able to return as promised.
Another of his senior brothers, Zilu, another disciple of Confucius, was chopped into pieces during the civil strife in Wei.
Zilu was a brave man and always followed Confucius on his travels to protect him.
When Confucius left last time, the middle-aged man who drove a carriage to pick up Confucius was Zilu.
His tragic death was another heavy blow to Confucius.
Moreover, no one can be sure whether Zilu died in the melee or at the hands of the dragon clan.
I put away the letter, neither sad nor happy, just lamenting the ups and downs of Confucius' life.
Even if there are always unique talents in the world, reaching the pinnacle of the human race in both civil and military aspects, but so what?
What he experienced was not a suffering that ordinary people could bear.
The word benevolence and righteousness had done him a lot of harm.
In the spring of the sixteenth year of Duke Ai, Ge Tian came back.
What came back with him was two pieces of unexpected news.
The first news is that Confucius is dead.
That Confucius who was as strong as an ox, could kill a tiger with one punch, and ran around carrying a ten-meter-high city gate...
Died of illness...
A person born to practice...
How could he die of illness?
My first reaction was not to believe it, but Ge Tian told me that he saw the teacher's body buried in the ground with his own eyes, so he couldn't be wrong.
It was wrong that he wanted that body more than anyone else.
But he is indeed Confucius.
The surrounding disciples could also see clearly.
When Confucius went to the tomb, he no longer looked as strong as usual. Instead, he looked like an ordinary little old man. Even his height had shrunk.
And all this happened in seven days.
All the disciples watched with their own eyes as the once tall body gradually shrank into a withered grass, and then closed its eyes forever.
God knows how I felt when I heard the news?
sad?
It seems a little bit, but not obvious.
pain?
To be honest, it's not to that extent.
regret?
Is it to Confucius? Or the talent of Confucius?
I don't know what it feels like. I just know that a friend with whom I can sit and talk about everything has left me. I should be sad, but I can't cry.
Confucius spent his whole life running for his ideals.
When he was born, the Zhou royal family was in decline, the world was in strife, and rituals and music collapsed.
Even if I serve as the Keeper of the Cangshi, I would not dare to easily participate in the great world war.
But Confucius dared.
He implemented his own ideas, lectured and taught apprentices everywhere, traveled around the country, and was homeless.
In his own words: "He was as frightened as a lost dog."
The funny thing is that no one can defeat this "lost dog", so everyone prefers to call him "the deadbeat dog".
This slutty dog spent his whole life busy, and in his later years, he suffered the heavy blows of losing his wife, his children, and his disciples one after another.
Reality and ideals are increasingly divergent.
At the end of his life, how did he face death?
Are you calm?
Fear?
Do you regret it?
Any regrets?
But life and death are the unchanging laws of all things, and they will not change depending on how he treats them.
This is the way of life.
And I seem to be getting closer and closer to the "Tao".
Ge Tian only came back to deliver a message, because all the disciples of Confucius' sect had to mourn for Confucius for three years, so he hurried back.
I wanted to stay with him for one night, but he waved his hand and refused.
So I helped him collect all his books.
He didn't refuse, and while packing his things, he talked about the second thing.
"I'm feeling cold."
I stopped moving my hands and looked at him.
Ge Tian nodded and repeated what he just said with great conviction: "I'm feeling cold."
I asked him: "When?"
Ge Tian replied: "When the teacher leaves."
Just like me before.
Are strong emotions really the way to feel Qi?
But in these troubled times, there are countless people dying, so why haven’t we heard of anyone else feeling sick in this world?
Even if you don’t know what Qi Qi is, there will always be some situations of enlightenment.
But actually, there is nothing.
I asked Ge Tian: "How did you feel Qi? Did you see a big fireball?"
Ge Tian shook his head: "There is no fireball."
Only then did I realize that Ge Tian’s Qi Qi was very different from my Qi Qi.
After he learned the news of Confucius' death, he was indeed very emotional, but he did not feel angry. He just felt that there was a stagnation in his heart that could not be vented.
With nowhere to vent, he could only turn to cultivation.
He himself cannot sense Qi, but over the years, he has been practicing according to the method of inducing Qi and the meridian diagram. Although he does not know the situation in the body and cannot sense the movement of Qi, this does not prevent his meridians from functioning at once. Once again, he became stronger and stronger during his journey.
And he slowly memorized the Xingqi line.
If you have no sense of Qi and cannot sense Qi, but you control the Qi induction method to allow Qi to flow through the meridians, it is equivalent to walking at night with your eyes closed.
But he persisted.
Moreover, he practiced pretty well.
After so many years, his meridians have become far thicker than mine, and can even be compared with Confucius.
But he still didn't feel alert.
Until that day.
The pent-up energy in his heart could not be eliminated, so he controlled the energy that he could not feel and rushed straight towards the Qi Sea Point.
Then things become very simple. As the stagnation in the heart disappears, the sea of qi is broken, the Dantian suddenly opens up, and the sense of energy arises spontaneously.
He finally "saw" what he had practiced day and night.
He could feel the colorful Qi even with his eyes closed.
He was feeling sick.
"Master, maybe you are wrong. It is not that you can only feel Qi first and then practice Qi. It is that you must first practice Qi successfully, and then the Qi sense will arise on its own."
Ge Tian said to me before leaving.
I watched Ge Tian leave, and I saw that his figure had grown much taller without realizing it, and he was no longer as stooped as before, and he was striding towards the distance.
Just like Confucius at the beginning.
am I wrong?
So what happened to my original feeling of Qi?
And the fireball that appeared in front of Yin Xi and me...
If it was an illusion, it would be too much of a coincidence.
I took out a cloth bag from my arms, which was what Confucius had taken from me.
The method of inducing Qi, the method of practicing Qi, the meridians diagram, and the experience of practicing Qi.
Just like when I gave it to Confucius, there are some differences.
I casually took out the Qiqi method book and found that besides my handwriting, there were also a lot of things written densely on it.
These words are written by one person and appear on almost every page.
Some of these words are analyzing the function of a certain sentence in the Yinqi method, some are writing about their own insights, and some are changes to the Yinqi method.
His ideas are so exquisite and his words so profound, there is probably only one person in the world who can have this level of understanding.
Confucius.
I opened the other three books at random, and without exception, they were filled with various words.
As I looked at these books, I suddenly saw the scene of Confucius reading at night.
Confucius, such virtuous people can be called saints.
I was just about to put the cloth bag away when I found two small pieces of silk of different colors sandwiched between the pages of "Qi Qi Training Experience".
Pulling it out, it turned out to be a letter.
Silk is a precious thing. We usually write letters on bamboo slips. Using silk and silk to write books is already a waste. Confucius actually used it to write letters?
With doubts, I unfolded this precious silk letter.
"Mr. Li, since you read this letter, I am considered dead.
Death is not terrible, rather, it is living that makes me feel painful, so I chose to die.
Yes, I did not die of illness.
A natural practitioner, a practitioner who can chase dragons, a practitioner who can kill a tiger with one punch, a practitioner who can run around carrying a ten-meter city gate, a practitioner who is as strong as an ox. …
How could he die of illness?
You might think so.
I must have guessed right.
Of course I didn't die of illness. Even you wouldn't believe it, let alone others.
But my purpose is to make them disbelieve.
They didn't believe that I was dead, and they couldn't believe that I was alive. They could only live in panic.
But I died eventually.
This world is too dirty. I choose to spend all my life's cultivation and leave it.
But I always have to do something for the world.
What should I do?
I thought about it and didn't have an answer.
Many of my disciples are not worthy of trust, and those who are trustworthy will probably be persecuted because of my death.
My ideal did not come true after all. In fact, it was too far away from reality.
My benevolence and righteousness...
Forget it, you should be unhappy saying this.
After much thought, I felt that I should leave something behind for the human race.
You know, my talent is the best in the world.
I want to leave the method of protecting myself and slaying dragons to this world.
These two pages of silk book, one page is a letter I wrote to you, and the other page is a Qi training method I compiled based on the information you provided.
I hope you will leave it, along with your research, to posterity.
I believe you can make the human race grow stronger.
Regardless of whether you tell future generations what I have done, I will naturally have a share in this immortal achievement.
Many people say that I am not interested in fame and wealth, and they know nothing.
If I am not interested in fame and fortune, then why should I preach my doctrine everywhere?
Peace in the world?
Yes, but the prerequisite for peace should not be whether you are doing well.
So, I guess I want fame and fortune.
Naturally, I don’t want to be overwhelmed by this rolling history.
I hope that my name will last forever and my achievements will last forever.
Qiu, I am a traveler in this world, never a guest. "
Confucius... the world has misjudged you.
You are not a sour scholar, you are a madman!
I put down the silk letter and picked up the second page of the silk book. With just one glance, Yuan Qi surged straight into the sea of Qi.
The Dantian is full and Qi practice is successful.
