Outside Of Time Chapter 1600: Time Is a Passerby From Ancient Times Until Now

Chapter 1600: Time Is a Pa.s.serby From Ancient Times Until Now

Editor: Atlas Studios

In the closed hut in the minor world where Li Clan’s ancestral hall was located.

The furnis.h.i.+ngs were simple: a table, a chair, and a wooden bed.

Aside from these, there was only a single scroll of calligraphy hanging on the wall.

“He is like a devout pilgrim, forever searching for a temple that may not exist.”

…

Outside, the flames were still burning.

Under the refinement of the sea of fire, the scroll painting in the cauldron slowly shone with a dark light.

Faintly, it seemed as though a voice was echoing from within the scroll.

“I… have forgotten something?”

“Is it regret?”

“Or was it that sentence?”

“Perhaps… I should have someone deliver it for me.”

The voice gradually dissipated and was burned by the sea of fire.

…

The fire burned brighter and stronger.

The earthen pot hanging above it was red hot. The medicinal liquid inside grew thick under the intense heat.

It occasionally bubbled and released bursts of medicinal aroma that filled the small, simple room.

The room was modest, with shelves lining the walls, holding various herbs.

In the center sat an old man and a young boy.

The old man wore a dark blue long robe, his hair completely white, his face marked by the pa.s.sage of time, his expression numb. He sat in a rocking chair, gazing out at the setting sun, lost in thought.

The young boy looked at the old man and softly asked.

“Master, what happened next?”

“What next?” the old man asked.

“Earlier, you spoke about forgetting something. Is it regret? Or was it that sentence? What is that sentence? Who do you need it sent to? I can help you send it!”

When the old man heard this, his gaze landed on the medicine pot.

“This medicine is almost ready. Take it out and divide it into portions, then deliver them one by one.”

The young boy, upon hearing this, quickly grabbed a ladle and scooped the thick medicine from the pot into a small medicine box, then hurried out.

Just as he stepped outside the apothecary, he paused, turning back to look at his master. He couldn’t help but speak up.

“Master, after I finish delivering the medicine, will you tell me what that sentence was? I promise I’ll pa.s.s it on. I’m really curious! If you tell me, I’ll share a secret with you too.”

The old man nodded.

The youth was filled with antic.i.p.ation. He carried the medicine box and ran into the distance.

Seeing the youth’s figure disappear from his vision, the old man’s eyes became a little unfocused.

“What is that sentence… I can’t remember.”

The old man mumbled.

The night pa.s.sed.

The young man didn’t return.

Someone said that an immortal saw him and took him away.

Someone said that the night had devoured him.

And for the rest of his life after that day, the old man never saw him again.

It was as though everything was just an illusion.

Ten years later, when he was about to pa.s.s away, he would occasionally think of his little disciple back then but he didn’t have a deep impression of him.

This was because he had been recalling that sentence his entire life.

That sentence seemed to be in his memory but he couldn’t find it no matter what.

Finally, on the day he pa.s.sed away, his memories turned into ashes and dissipated into the human world. Only then did he remember those words.

“The world is the guest house of all living beings…”

“What’s the next part of the sentence?”

The old man didn’t have an answer.

Time had taken away his life and spirit. Only a corpse was left of him in this world and was buried in the soil.

As time pa.s.sed, the corpse and the soil were completely mixed together.

The world continued to change. The small city had become ruins and a wasteland.

An unknown period of time pa.s.sed…

Until one day, a hoe was raised and struck the soil of this barren land.

Here, fields were cultivated, crops were planted, and a village was established.

The farmer, living an unremarkable life, aged from a young man to middle-aged and finally became an old man.

On his deathbed, he suddenly told his family something surprising. He said he had once been a high-ranking official, a wealthy merchant, a mountain bandit, and even a physician. All of these past selves were buried right here, in this land.

Thus, in this life, he too wanted to be buried here, hoping to extend some time for his future self and slow the dispersal of his soul.

His final words, tinged with fantasy, were heard by some in their hearts, but most didn’t take them seriously.

However, no matter what, his corpse was buried in this land.

He was too ordinary, like a drop of water in the sea, gradually forgotten after many years.

As spring gave way to autumn, the village grew and transformed into a county town.

Many years later, in the winter, at dusk, a middle-aged cultivator rode the wind and arrived.

He was a rogue cultivator who didn’t belong to any sect or faction. By a coincidence, he entered a secret realm and obtained an inheritance.

This inheritance was a remnant soul.

If he wanted to obtain the inheritance, he had to satisfy the remnant soul’s last wish.

Hence, under the guidance of the remnant soul, he arrived here.

In front of the soil, the remnant soul walked out of his body and transformed into a youth who stared at this land and this county town.

Things were the same but people had changed.

The small city back then had become even larger. The former apothecary had become an academy.

As he gazed at the scene, the youth seemed to glimpse that night from long ago, in that very shop, with his first master and the master’s tale.

It had been so long ago that he thought he’d forgotten.

After being taken away and stepping into the world of cultivation, he too had his moments of brilliance, his own life filled with joy and sorrow, love and hatred.

He had once reached certain heights, only to eventually fall and become a remnant soul. Over the years, he realized that the most enduring memory within him was still that scene from the past.

He wanted to know what the sentence his master didn’t say was.

Because…

The secret he never had the chance to share back then was that the words his master had spoken were ones he had already heard in a dream, even before he became an apprentice at the apothecary.

He didn’t know the reason, but now… he wanted to pursue it.

Moreover, he felt that what his master didn’t say was very important.

“A lot of my soul has dissipated. This remnant soul of mine can’t hold on for long… However, I have a strong feeling that if I can’t find an answer before I dissipate, then… there will be no future.”

As he mumbled, his gaze landed on the academy.

In the academy, there was a teacher and seven students.

At this moment, the sky was a dark red hue. In the twilight, the students bade their farewells one by one.

As for the teacher, he also tidied his clothes and was about to leave when a schoolboy who had originally left returned and stood at the door.

The teacher stopped in his tracks and looked over.

The schoolboy lowered his head and bowed.

“Sir, I have a question. Since time is running out and I can’t find the answer, I am asking you now as I encountered you before I fade away. Please, help me with this.”

The teacher was silent for a while before he slowly spoke.

“Go ahead.”

“Sir, do you know what reincarnation is?” The boy raised his head, his eyes pitch-black.

The teacher frowned.

“You’re extraordinary, but I’m a mortal. Why are you asking me what reincarnation is?”

The boy shook his head. His pitch-black eyes were a little unfocused and dazed.

“I understand and perceive reincarnation as a cycle of rebirth, where each lifetime only begins after one ends. But I increasingly feel that reincarnation might not be like that. Is it possible that many of the people I’ve encountered are actually different versions of myself from different cycles of reincarnation?”

“This has left me confused. Please, sir, help me understand. Even if it’s just a casual thought, anything would be appreciated.”

The boy mumbled.

The teacher closed his eyes and didn’t say a word.

Time flowed on, and half an hour later, as dusk was about to give way to night, the darkness in the boy’s eyes had mostly faded. The teacher finally opened his eyes.

“I don’t know what reincarnation truly is, but if I were to interpret this word, I would say it is like a journey across a deep abyss, a process of searching for light in the darkness.”

“This process cannot come without a price, so the cost of repeated reincarnations should be a form of self-erasure.”

“As for your situation, where you feel that many people you encounter are yourself in different reincarnations, it seems to me that this could be a form of self-rescue amidst self-erasure.”

“Choosing to abandon each cycle of erasure and opting for a single, complete blossoming in an attempt to find light.”

“In the end, if you still can’t find the light, your spirit will turn to ashes.”

The boy trembled and he was stunned. After a long time, understanding appeared in his eyes. Everything in the past appeared in his mind. Vaguely, he seemed to have heard the murmurs of his first master.

Hence, he lowered his head and bowed before speaking softly.

“Thank you, I understand now. So my meaning is to link time together and pa.s.s a sentence to you.”

“The world is the guest house of all living beings…”

“What’s the next line? Please, Sir… reflect on it yourself. This is our final chance. Fortunately… you still have enough time left in your life.”

As the boy spoke, the darkness in his eyes completely disappeared.

The remnant soul dissipated.

The boy woke up, feeling a little confused. When he saw the teacher, he felt nervous and hurriedly greeted him before quickly escaping.

Only the teacher stood on the spot with a blank look in his eyes. It was as though some scenes of reincarnation that originally belonged to him were gradually awakening.

The chancellor of the Great Ning Dynasty felt that he had forgotten something as he neared death.

Merchant Xu, before his death, was filled with regret—not for the trials of his life, but for not recalling what he had forgotten.

This regret became a profound pain, lingering in the mind of the bandit Xu Shan until his death, when he finally thought of a phrase.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to ponder over it.

He could only leave it to the physician.

The physician spent his life searching, but only recalled the phrase at the moment of his own death, due to interference from some force.

Fortunately, he was prepared.

Hence, the youth became the thread connecting time and reincarnation.

Meanwhile, the farmer who tilled the fields willingly became nourishment to buy time for his future self.

Finally, the youth came.

Before the youth died, he also understood and completed his mission, pa.s.sing on those words.

They were given to the teacher.

This year, the teacher had turned thirty-seven.

He had enough time.

Time flowed by and in the blink of an eye, 30 years pa.s.sed.

The teacher, now nearing the end of his life, remained in the county town.

As for the schoolchildren, they had long gone their separate ways.

When he was on his deathbed, no one returned.

The old man did not mind. Lying on his bed, he gazed out at the dusk, as scenes seemed to unfold across the twilight sky before his eyes.

“Official, merchant, bandit, physician, commoner, cultivator… different reincarnations, different experiences, different lives.”

“As expected… the world is the guest house of all living beings. Time is a pa.s.serby from ancient times until now.”

“I’m still a pa.s.serby in the time, but no longer with closed eyes.”

The teacher was calm. A beam of purple light erupted from his chest and spread throughout his body, enveloping the world.

The spirit that had dissipated bloomed again.

The teacher closed his eyes.

Xu Qing woke up.

The cycle of reincarnation continued.

But it was no longer a solitary boat drifting aimlessly in the abyssal sea. It had gained a helmsman, becoming a ferryman.

Guiding in an orderly direction, with time as the oar, it charted a course through the flow of ages.

It headed to the source of the painting.