Refuse to trample on the pride of heaven

The wooden statue of Lu Wensheng, which was originally created through the wishes of the people, was eventually enshrined in the main hall of the Discipline Hall at the solemn suggestion of Daoist Jun Ning.

The wooden statue had a kind and compassionate expression and a composed demeanor. Although it no longer possessed the radiant divine light of its day, it had a gentle and refined air that surprisingly matched the solemn and righteous atmosphere of the Discipline Hall.

Lu Wensheng stared at the wooden statue, his thoughts drifting back to those days and nights when he silently paid tribute to his fellow disciples.

With a slight thought, he chose an auspicious day and personally moved out the memorial tablets of the Discipline Hall disciples, which he had always treasured behind his back and which represented the countless sacrifices made in the fight against the demons, and respectfully enshrined them in the newly built "Heroic Spirits Pavilion" outside the Discipline Hall.

There, the windows were bright and clean, and the pines and cypresses were evergreen. He said, "They are all heroes who protect the common people. Their bones can be buried in the green mountains, and their names should be known to the sun and moon, so that future generations can admire and learn from them forever."

From then on, the incense in the Hall of Heroes burned continuously, and disciples often came to pay their respects in silence, to strengthen their resolve.

In the mortal world, people gradually began to build temples and erect statues for Lu Wensheng and others who had made a name for themselves in this battle, such as Lu Wensheng, Ji Yanli, and Liu Jiqian.

However, there are more statues of Lu Wensheng, and the appearance of the statues is mostly modeled after the image of Lu Wensheng holding "Huangji" and being covered with the radiance of the people's wishes. Although the craftsmanship is different, they all try to capture that compassion and majesty.

Lu Wensheng sensed this matter but felt no aversion to it, only that it was a simple concern and hope in people's hearts.

However, he established the following rules: worshippers in the temple do not need to kneel, as long as they are sincere; the offerings can be either vegetarian or non-vegetarian, and can be taken at will by those who are poor and hungry if they need them, and no one should be stopped.

Even if he were to become an immortal in the future, he would not believe in those high and mighty ghosts and gods who only received incense offerings and did not care about the people's plight. However, he knew the hardships of the mortal world and understood the despair and helplessness in the hearts of those who knelt before gods and Buddhas, begging for their mercy and protection.

Having embraced this faith, he was willing to be the "god" who protects believers, listening attentively to the joys and sorrows, the rhythms and breaths of the mortal world.

He could patiently confront the cowardice and greed that arose from noise and filth, yet he would also lose his composure and soften his heart when faced with the purest and simplest prayers.

People may ask him for many things, but what he is willing to fulfill are those genuine "greeds" concerning "family well-being," "abundant harvests," and "peace throughout the world."

This compassionate thought, which originates from all living beings, is itself the opportunity for continuous life.

Gods and Buddhas never promise an inevitable end or miracles, but they are willing to become a gentle breeze or a ray of light on the believer's journey, protecting them along the way.

……

Everything gradually got back on track, everything was renewed, and there was a vibrant atmosphere.

However, Lu Wensheng never forgot the culprit who started all the disasters.

Although Demon Lord Shi Yubai was destroyed in both body and soul, the cruelty of his actions and the depth of the suffering he caused could not be repaid simply by his destruction.

The Heavenly Dao absorbed its remnant soul into its laws, subjecting it to the unbearable agony of its original soul power being ground down inch by inch, repeatedly torn apart and reshaped—this was already the ultimate punishment.

However, Lu Wensheng thought about it silently and still felt that it was too easy for him.

He communicated with the system in his mind, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable determination: "Go and offer some suggestions to the Heavenly Dao on my behalf. This kind of torment is too lenient on him."

It would be better to let him personally experience the entire experience and feelings of those innocent people who died tragically because of him, and immerse him in the cycle of reincarnation, allowing him to relive their despair, fear, and pain time and time again.

In each cycle of reincarnation, we might as well give him a glimmer of hope, as if the dawn is ahead, and then at the most crucial moment, extinguish that hope completely, causing him to be annihilated in the deepest despair.

Of course, some 'humanity' must also be considered. After each cycle of reincarnation, punishment should be used to transition them, allowing them to consciously perceive the pain before entering the next cycle.

Lu Wensheng paused for a moment, then continued to add, his voice still gentle, but the content was chilling: "As for punishment... a red-hot iron horse can be set up for them to ride. The rod-like object on the iron horse can also be heated until it is red-hot and covered with barbs. When it enters the body, the barbs will tear it apart, and then salt that corrodes the soul and destroys the bones will be sprinkled on it."

Or, find that burrowing, eel-like demonic insect from the underworld, equip it with specially made barbed iron armor, and place it inside, letting it burrow and gnaw... You can consult with the heavens on such matters, but you must make it suffer to the fullest, so that it cannot even die.

The system trembled at the code and couldn't help but complain: "[This... who can tell the difference between you and Satan?] Even Satan would be ashamed of himself upon seeing you, and would have to tattoo Lu Wensheng's face on his back, the kind that you can't look directly at!"

Upon hearing this, Lu Wensheng simply smiled faintly, her eyes sparkling like spring water reflecting pear blossoms, her tone so gentle it could melt water: "You flatter me, I'm not that kind."

Despite its complaints, the system still dutifully relayed these "suggestions" to the Heavenly Dao.

The Heavenly Dao remained silent for a moment, wiped away non-existent sweat, and secretly rejoiced: Fortunately, Lu Wensheng is on the side of the common people. If he were an enemy, his ruthless methods and decisive nature would probably make him an intractable calamity for all eternity.

Regarding the handling of Shi Yubai, Lu Wensheng appeared calm and composed, as if he had already let it go.

Only Liu Jiqian, on a quiet night, sensed his Daoist partner's hidden emotions.

That was on the night Shi Yubai was completely defeated. Everyone was immersed in the joy and exhaustion of victory, but Lu Wensheng was alone in a corner where no one could see her, quietly shedding tears.

It was the rainy season when the hustle and bustle had vanished, leaving only the desolate wind whistling through the lonely courtyard.

The air seemed to be shrinking with the remaining oxygen, and those eyes, usually clear as glass, now reflected a lingering, misty watery hue, as if they were being torn apart.

The unfathomable interior is a bottomless, cold desolation, with undulating branches of emotion like invisible tentacles, gnawing away at the deliberately maintained naivety and tranquility.

Tears welled up in her eyes and finally burst forth. In the stillness, the bitter, cracking sound seemed to travel directly to her ears, and even the night seemed to be torn apart by it.

The bright expanse in Lu Wensheng's eyes, which was always as clear as a rising tide, now seemed to be covered by an endless blanket of snow, cold and desolate.

If the moonlight were to catch a glimpse of a fleeting moment, it would surely illuminate waves of new green, brimming with the vitality of early summer.

If someone were to compare Ah Sheng at this moment to an early summer day standing against the tide, one could feel a river flowing with vitality at their fingertips, beneath which lie hidden, towering mountains and silent, sturdy dams—he had endured so much alone, yet had no one to whom he could freely confide or rely.

He had long been accustomed to burying all his pain and stress in his heart and showing his resilience to others.

The tragic deaths of so many disciples in the Discipline Hall were like an incredibly hard fishbone, lodged deep in Lu Wensheng's throat ever since.

Others might not be aware of it, but Lu Wensheng could feel the presence of that thorn at all times.

Whenever he sees Shi Yubai, or is moved by the scene, that thorn swells and twists in his throat, scraping against his fragile inner self, bringing a long and sharp pain.

The person who still seemed to be able to show a bright smile had long since had his love twisted into deep-seated hatred and endless self-blame by the cruel reality that hindered his will and the care and promises that he could not express in time.

When he knelt before the cold, mutilated corpses of his fellow disciples, how did he hate his own powerlessness? How did he resent the injustice of this world? It was a pain powerful enough to burn everything.

At that time, for the first time, he believed in the illusory cycle of heaven and earth with such despair, hoping that there would be retribution in the dark. This thought itself was, for him, a kind of self-comfort tinged with bitterness and hypocrisy. It was nothing more than a helpless excuse of "it's not that retribution won't come, it's just that the time hasn't arrived yet".

Those bittersweet memories, like scattered, desolate mountains, flashed repeatedly during his countless sleepless moments.

Those pages of memories, sealed away by suffering and dared not be easily opened, now become blurred in tears.

His gaze seemed to transcend time and space, silently meeting that of his departed fellow disciples, who had once seen the towering green mountains together and traversed the darkest ocean before dawn.

Liu Jiqian silently stepped forward and gently embraced his silent, tearful Daoist partner without uttering a word.

Fortunately, Liu Jiqian felt a sense of relief in his heart. Fortunately, Bai Yu was already reunited tonight, and he would shed tears. Fortunately, Shi Yubai was executed, and the world was at peace.

These tears are the release of long-suppressed grief, the beginning of the gentle moonlight softening and removing the thorn buried deep in the throat.

Those unspoken pains, those deep-seated wounds, finally found a place to rest with the tears at this moment.

The night was long, but at this moment, Lu Wensheng already had the warmth to resist all the cold.

And longing is like the tide that leaps over hundreds of mountains.