What has that got to do with you? What has that got to do with me? Right! One’s “other self” is either a simulated imprint or a projection without consciousness. One is unique, and there’s no need to worry about being overwhelmed by emotional and memory conflicts from multiple “other selves.”
If that’s the case, then what connection does another “me,” an identical “me,” have with myself? He is he, and I am I!
As if a veil had been lifted, Meng Qi felt as though the haze of cognitive illusion—known as the veil of perception—had dissipated. In an instant, his vision brightened, his thoughts flowed unimpeded, and he faintly glimpsed his true essence. His body and mind brimmed with vitality, radiating an indescribable wonder.
However, this was merely the clearing of fog and the revealing of a path. As for how to “approach” or “reach” it, there remained numerous difficulties, obstacles, and potential detours.
After a moment of contemplation, he smiled, slowly stood up, and respectfully bowed:
“Thank you, Senior, for your guidance.”
“The third question is: if all the experiences you’ve had in the past were merely dreams—your wife is a dream, Huamei Villa is a dream, and even the sword in your hand is a dream—how should you respond?”
“Common illusions certainly won’t affect you, Senior, but what if you were within the dream realm of Amitabha Buddha? What you see, hear, touch, and feel are all dreamlike reflections—seemingly real but essentially illusory. Like Zhuangzi’s dream of being a butterfly, is it Zhuangzi dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of becoming Zhuangzi?”
Meng Qi rephrased the “brain in a vat” question. After speaking, he turned and slowly walked down the mountain path without waiting for Master Lu’s reply.
A gentle breeze blew along the roadside, carrying the fresh scent of flowers. The figure with a wooden hairpin gradually disappeared into the distance.
Beside Master Lu, the long sword lay still. His eyes flickered, his lips moved, but he could not utter an answer. He simply watched Meng Qi walk further and further away from the back mountains.
…
After exiting Huamei Villa, Meng Qi gazed around aimlessly, unsure where to go. In the midst of his wandering thoughts, he instinctively headed southwest. When he finally regained awareness, he had already arrived before a mountain peak that resembled a towering sword piercing the sky.
This was the entrance to Xijian Pavilion!
Meng Qi stood still before the mountain, suddenly chuckling bitterly. Deep down, he had indeed not completely let go of that matter.
That phrase had left an indelible mark on him:
“All my life, I have loved only the seven-foot sword, to cut through the ‘me’ I see, for I am not truly ‘me’.”
He did not conceal his aura, and soon Jiang Zhiwei appeared at the foot of the mountain, the blossoms behind her blooming in a fragrant, picturesque scene.
She wore a yellow dress, her black hair loosely tied with a few strands hanging down, radiant and captivating, seemingly unchanged. She smiled and said, “Why didn’t you announce your arrival first?”
“Spontaneously inspired, I came as my heart willed,” Meng Qi replied, wearing a green robe with a wooden hairpin, exuding a relaxed and graceful demeanor as he spoke in riddles.
Jiang Zhiwei chuckled lightly. “You never come uninvited. What’s on your mind?”
Her eyes sparkled with a knowing look, as if to say, “I know you too well.”
“Hmm,” Meng Qi hesitated slightly before asking, “You once recited, ‘All my life, I have loved only the seven-foot sword, to cut through the ‘me’ I see, for I am not truly ‘me.’ Which ‘I’ does it refer to when it says ‘cut,’ and which ‘me’ does it refer to when it says ‘see’?”
Jiang Zhiwei smiled knowingly. “So you’re thinking about ‘what makes me truly me.'”
Then her expression grew more serious as she explained, “‘Wu’ refers to the external ‘self,’ including the physical body, experiences, martial cultivation, emotions, and so on. ‘Wo’ refers to one’s true nature.”
“Once that true nature strays from the Dao, it becomes tainted by external influences. The eyes are dazzled by colors, the ears are misled by sounds, the nose is stained by scents, and the heart is clouded by experiences and emotions, making it difficult to see one’s original self.”
“Cutting away does not mean discarding or abandoning; it means penetrating the limitations of those external aspects, understanding their illusory nature, and thus revealing the true self.”
Meng Qi gained some understanding but furrowed his brow in thought.
Seeing this, Jiang Zhiwei considered for a moment and continued in simpler terms:
“Although I’ve entered a life-or-death retreat, I’ve only just begun to grasp ‘cutting the external self to see the true self.’ This should be a challenge that persists beyond the Outer Manifestation stage. Simply put, the things our eyes see are limited by the eyes themselves. Without the Buddha’s wisdom eye that sees through all illusions, our perception of all things will always have blind spots. What we see may not be entirely real. Fully trusting what we see can easily lead to mistakes—an example of ‘losing oneself,’ being misled by externals and failing to see the true nature of things.”
“Similarly, until we reach the ultimate stage, our ears and nose have limitations, and the experiences and martial cultivation we gain from various events are also limited. Relying entirely on experience can trap us within it, causing biased perceptions of things. Relying entirely on martial cultivation can bind us increasingly to extremes and biases.”
“Recognizing them, breaking through them, and cutting away their illusory aspects are necessary to break free from the cage and see the ‘true self.'”
Meng Qi nodded and said, “It’s easy to say, but actually doing it will be extremely difficult. Since birth, everything we’ve done has been more or less influenced by the ‘external self.’ Relying on it has become a habit and instinct, so we don’t even realize there’s a problem, making it naturally difficult to break through.”
He understood Jiang Zhiwei’s meaning and realized what he needed to do was “cut the external self to see the true self.” Once he saw the true self, he could immediately attain the Legendary realm!
On the mountain, flowers bloomed brilliantly. At the foot of the mountain, two figures stood facing each other—one in yellow, one in plain green—discussing the experience of “cutting the external self to see the true self” in a harmonious atmosphere, almost like a pair of immortal lovers.
Meng Qi looked up at Jiang Zhiwei, then at the familiar yet unfamiliar mountain path, and suddenly smiled.
“Earlier, when Master Lu mentioned ‘a single wrong thought,’ I was thinking: if I hadn’t listened to Gege’s urging back then, and had come to Xijian Pavilion to persuade you, subtly expressing my feelings, would the outcome have been different?”
Time had passed, and he could now face the question calmly.
Jiang Zhiwei pursed her lips slightly, combed her hair, and with a smile, replied seriously, “Even without Gao Lan’s urging, you would still have come after hesitating. It’s just that you might not have arrived in time. No matter when you came, my answer would never change.”
Her eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky as she softly yet firmly added, “That is you, and that is me.”
Meng Qi let out a long sigh and smiled. “Indeed, that is you, and that is me.”
Looking up at the beautiful mountain scenery and the swaying flowers, he seemed to see Jiang Zhiwei’s gradually receding figure from the past. With a smile, he clasped his hands behind his back and began walking up the path.
Jiang Zhiwei smiled and followed beside him, walking side by side.
They didn’t speak, but everything was understood without words. One in yellow, graceful and flowing; one in green, elegant and free, they slowly ascended the mountain, as if Xijian Pavilion were uninhabited.
Gazing at the sea of clouds under the sun, vast and magnificent, Meng Qi chuckled and strode away with ease.
Jiang Zhiwei quietly watched the sea of clouds for a moment, then softly laughed as well, her clothes fluttering as she turned back toward her residence.
Through the ages, the sea of clouds has never changed.
…
Treading upon clouds and battered by gales, Meng Qi walked while pondering, emptying all other thoughts and wandering freely.
Unconsciously, he found himself in the Southern Wilderness, witnessing its thriving vitality and the growth of a martial cultivation sanctuary. Deep within the Southern Wilderness, ancient and mighty presences seemed to be hidden.
“The Demon King returns to the world, and the Sages follow once more?” Meng Qi suddenly recalled a phrase he had heard long ago.
Had the Demon Kings truly reincarnated and returned?
As his thoughts surged, Qi Zhengyan appeared before him. Clad in a simple robe with an unremarkable appearance, he bore only two stars between his brows and wielded a strange Demon Emperor’s Claw in his left hand. Yet, every movement he made carried an immense momentum, akin to the unceasing motion of the heavens—”A noble man must ceaselessly strive for self-improvement.”
“You have doubts in your heart?” Qi Zhengyan asked directly.
Meng Qi slightly nodded and recounted what Master Lu and Jiang Zhiwei had said. Finally, he asked, “How should one ‘cut the external self to see the true self’?”
Qi Zhengyan, with the insight of a Demon Emperor, should be able to offer some guidance.
After a moment of thought, Qi Zhengyan replied, “If you’re going to ‘cut the external self to see the true self,’ then try actually ‘cutting’ it. What is currently your greatest reliance and dependence? ‘Cut’ it off and experience what it’s like.”
“My greatest reliance and dependence?” Meng Qi murmured, frowning.
Yuan Shi Tian Zun? No. He had always been cautious toward him; how could he fully rely on him?
The Overlord’s Blade? Before it awakened to the Legendary realm, he had lived without it before…
As his thoughts turned, he heard Qi Zhengyan’s calm voice:
“Your greatest reliance and dependence is your martial cultivation. Without martial cultivation, there would be no Yuan Huang. Without martial cultivation, there would be none of your current achievements.”
Meng Qi took a deep breath, his thoughts surging, wanting to argue but finding no words.
Indeed, in this world filled with powerful individuals where strength reigns supreme, his greatest reliance and dependence was martial cultivation. Yuan Shi could not be trusted, Dao De could not be relied upon—only his own strength was real and unshakable!
Back then, facing the Demon Buddha, how desperate the situation had been. He had not prayed to gods or Buddhas but instead gradually cultivated his martial arts and honed the blade in his heart, ultimately breaking free from the shackles.
Qi Zhengyan stared at Meng Qi and said solemnly, “So, can you cut away this greatest reliance and dependence?”
“And even if you do abandon it, success is not guaranteed. At that point, you would be an ordinary person without power, and regaining strength would be extremely difficult.”
“At that time, would you still be Yuan Huang? Would you still be Su Meng? Could you maintain your current personality and mannerisms? Without martial cultivation, would you still be you?”
“Are you willing to give it up?”
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