Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Divide Between Past and Future Lives

A few hours later, Gu Qingcheng was at the wheel, driving Guan Wen, Baoling, and Xiao Huo away from the villa.

Her voice was unusually grave as she spoke: “The villa must be destroyed. Karle—no, Tang Jue—built at least four serpent pits beneath the ground, gathering renowned venomous snakes from all over Asia. From the great red-banded snake, the green bamboo viper, the black-backed pit viper, the snow-patterned krait of Donghai Snake Island, to the golden-banded pit viper of Bangladesh, the Indian cobra, the hundred-flower honey viper of Myanmar, the blood snake of Nepal, the five-step flower snake… all are present. It’s beyond human capacity to clear the site; if left unchecked, it will be an ecological disaster. So, I ordered Xiao Huo’s friends to set up over forty demolition points. Once we reach a safe distance, we’ll detonate them, letting the Palace of Summer Days perish in flames alongside the serpents.”

Their journey through Nepal had been like a boat tossed in stormy seas, never a moment’s peace, and now they were forced into a strategic retreat.

Guan Wen glanced back; the lights of the manor were sparse, with shadows occasionally flitting past the windows.

“That place was the setting of my dreams thousands of times,” Baoling murmured wistfully. “Now it’s about to be destroyed, and with it my dreams will shatter.” Of all of them, only she had a deep connection to the Palace of Summer Days. The sight brought her grief, and she could not escape the sorrow of witnessing the end of something once cherished.

“Weren’t they all nightmares? Isn’t it better for them to shatter?” Gu Qingcheng managed a faint smile.

“Yes, I’ve already obtained what I wanted.” Baoling patted the leather case beside her. The tortoiseshell retrieved from the globe in the library was inside, carefully wrapped in layers of soft silk.

Xiao Huo lay sprawled across the back seat, his body riddled with hundreds of snake bites. Though the best antivenoms had been applied and he’d been injected with six high-dose vials of antivenom serum, whether he would survive remained uncertain.

They owed their narrow escape to Xiao Huo. “He fought his way through two serpent pits, rescued me and Miss Gu, and then searched every secret chamber downstairs for over two hours before risking his life to save you,” Baoling said, her admiration for him boundless. “A friend like that is a true friend.”

“Good friend, good brother, you have to pull through!” Guan Wen gripped Xiao Huo’s hand, staring at his ashen, swollen face. Even the breath from his nostrils carried the acrid scent of venom.

After they had driven a kilometer from the manor, Gu Qingcheng stopped the car, dialed a number, and gave a quiet command: “Detonate.”

In an instant, a series of explosions erupted behind them. The main building and walls soared skyward, reduced at last to a heap of shattered rubble, dust lingering in the air.

The Palace of Summer Days had a long history; it was where Princess Chaoge once lived, and the repository of Baoling’s memories from a previous life. Its destruction, leaving not even a trace, was truly a cause for lament. Fortunately, Baoling had already secured the tortoiseshell from the library’s globe—what truly mattered.

Soon, two more cars caught up behind them, carrying Xiao Huo’s friends from the underworld.

“Let’s go, back to Tashilhunpo Monastery,” Gu Qingcheng said, flooring the accelerator. The SUV roared as it sped toward the Zhangmu border crossing.

As the journey jolted and bounced along, Guan Wen found his mind returning to that mysterious world of the Eightfold Path of the Heavenly Dragon, with its cycles of life and death—a world that still left him shaken.

He had glimpsed his sixth reincarnation, corresponding to the sixth part of the Eightfold Path: the Garuda.

In Chinese Buddhism, the Lotus Sutra describes the Garuda as one of the eight celestial guardians of the Buddha. Adorned with treasures, golden-bodied, a wish-fulfilling jewel upon its head, its cry is sorrowful. Each day it devours a dragon king and five hundred venomous dragons. As the poison accumulates within, it loses the ability to eat. After soaring up and down seven times, it flies to Vajra Wheel Mountain, where the poison erupts, its body disintegrates, leaving only a pure blue crystal heart. There are countless Garudas in the world, ruled by four great Garuda kings: Mighty, Vast, Full, and Wish-fulfilling. The Garuda is also an incarnation of Avalokitesvara.

In the esoteric Tibetan Buddhist tradition, the Garuda (khyung) is the steed of the northern Amoghasiddhi Buddha, depicted as a human-faced, bird-bodied being symbolizing the Dharma King’s ability to draw all to him.

Guan Wen had seen clearly: in his sixth life, he was the incarnation of the Golden-winged Roc (another name for the Garuda), born in Jiangnan, raised on the teachings of loyalty and patriotism, leading great armies into battle. In that life, he was betrayed by powerful officials, imprisoned in the capital’s dungeon, tortured, and finally executed at the Fengbo Pavilion.

He had suffered too much at the hands of his own people—misunderstood, plotted against, and betrayed—so many grievances piled up in his heart.

How many times have I endured, forging gold from patience? Hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of times? He stared at the landscape flashing past the window, knowing he had endured enough. One day, he would erupt, proving his worth to the world.

In that sixth life, he was the Roc, a creature with soaring ambitions, yet chained by fate to a narrow prison where even the lowest jailers could end his life. How terrifying—what a cruel joke fate had played! The Roc yearned to fly, but died before his dreams could be fulfilled. The tears of a hero soaked his robes…

He had once visited Hangzhou, paid his respects and burned incense at the Temple of Yue, gazing at the grand plaque inscribed with “Return My Rivers and Mountains.”

At the time, he never realized that the heroic anti-Jin general who died was his own past life. In the vast sea of humanity, he had unknowingly brushed shoulders with his former soul—a deep, inexpressible sorrow.

Flight, ambition, vanquishing evil, success… He silently vowed that in this life, he would not pass in silence, not disappear into the river of time without a trace. He would strive to leave his name in history, to accomplish great deeds.

The Golden-winged Roc is also described in Zhuangzi’s “Free and Easy Wandering”: “In the Northern Sea there is a fish called Kun. Kun is so huge, no one knows how many thousand li it measures. It transforms into a bird called Peng. The back of the Peng is likewise vast, and when it flies, its wings are like clouds hanging from the sky. Every time the sea stirs, the bird migrates to the Southern Sea, which is called the Celestial Pool. The Qixie records say: When the Peng travels to the Southern Sea, it beats the water for three thousand li, soaring up ninety thousand li on the wind, and takes six months to complete the journey.”

Guan Wen’s heart burned with certainty for his future ambition: to be a giant among men, to change the course of history, to be a great hero.

After crossing the Zhangmu border, Baoling gently touched Gu Qingcheng’s shoulder and said quietly, “Miss Gu, please stop the car. I need to say farewell to Nepal.”

Gu Qingcheng pulled over. Baoling got out.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Guan Wen asked.

Baoling shook her head. “No, this is a farewell I must make alone. The era of Princess Chaoge is over. Across this border, I’ll pray for her soul to pass on through the six realms of reincarnation. As for me, I will fight to defeat evil. Succeed or fail, I will never cross back into her world. This is a true goodbye—she and her dreams will trouble me no more.”

She walked alone toward a steep hill on the right, letting the night wind sweep her hair and garments.

“Guan Wen, as soon as I return, I must rush to Lhasa to meet the Master of the Flaming Lotus. Do you know, I, too, received a mysterious revelation in the meditation chamber of the Palace of Summer Days—a vision about my own life’s path. After our journey in Nepal, I feel that everyone has changed. Especially…” She glanced at the unconscious Xiao Huo in the back seat. “When I saw him fighting through the seething mass of serpents to save us, saw the broken snakes hanging from him, I suddenly understood: at certain moments, a person must give everything, hold nothing back, to have no regrets. I always thought Xiao Huo was conservative, selfish, aloof, never one to risk his life for others. But this time, I admit I was wrong.”

Guan Wen nodded with a deep sigh. “Xiao Huo is a good man. A true hero.”

Without Xiao Huo, he would have died in the serpent pit—his only fate.

“Don’t worry.” Gu Qingcheng suddenly smiled.

The night wind swept through the car window, tossing her hair and giving Guan Wen a sharp yet beautiful silhouette.

“Worry about what?” he asked.

After the great ordeal, everyone was utterly exhausted. Just being able to look at her like this was his greatest luxury.

Gu Qingcheng met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “You know the ways of the world—how easily people are parted. Surviving a great calamity, I will hold fast to my original choice. Guan Wen, I’ve never cared how many love me, but as for whom I love, from life to death, you are the only one. No matter who, no matter how they treat me, nothing can change that. If someone risks their life for me, I will do the same for them. That’s all. It has nothing to do with love.”

Her honest confession filled Guan Wen with joy.

“Thank you.” The words were simple, but his passionate gaze said all that needed saying—enough for Gu Qingcheng to understand.

“Baoling is a good girl. Take care of her.” Gu Qingcheng smiled, pointing to the distant hill.

“I know,” Guan Wen replied.

He and Gu Qingcheng shared a deep understanding; there was no need to finish their sentences—the other would always grasp the meaning.

“It looks like things are going to be very difficult. I wonder if we’ll—” Gu Qingcheng began.

Guan Wen picked up where she left off: “Grape wine in luminous cups, as the pipa hastens us to drink on horseback. If I fall drunk on the battlefield, do not laugh—how many have ever returned from war?”

The battle at the Palace of Summer Days was but the prelude to the war against evil. If the prelude was already filled with the clash of arms and hand-to-hand combat, the main event was certain to be even more perilous.

“We all have to fight to survive, carve a bloody path, and strive for the perfect ending—just as the king and the two princesses did in their battle against evil,” Gu Qingcheng said. “Songtsen Gampo, Princess Wencheng, and Princess Chizun are legends in Tibetan history. Not only did they succeed in subduing evil and bring peace to Tibet for a thousand years, but they also forged a love that lasted until death, a story of immortal lovers that future generations could never surpass.”

“To survive,” Guan Wen said, reaching out and gripping Gu Qingcheng’s hand tightly.

No words could truly express the complexity of their feelings at that moment. Only by surviving could they hope for a future, for love, for achievement. To die in the battle against evil would mean becoming nothing more than a line in a history book, or even less—arriving and departing in anonymity. That was life’s greatest sorrow.

“Go and be with her. She may not want anyone to accompany her on the surface, but inside, it’s not that way. Saying goodbye to another person is always hard, and she’s bidding farewell to her past life.” Gu Qingcheng withdrew her hand and pointed outside.

Guan Wen said nothing more. He got out of the car and walked toward the hilltop.