The more you believe me, the more real it becomes.

Chapter 222 Alive (3k)

The old man's voice was hoarse and weak, yet every word was sharp and clear:
"In the end, I was the one who raised the flag of rebellion. No matter how many reasons I had no choice, the words 'raising an army to rebel' are a sin that I cannot wash away."

He opposed the imperial court because of its incompetence, which allowed the southwestern regions to suffer widespread famine.

Now that he knew the court had done everything in its power, he no longer had any intention of rebelling.

"No matter what the current situation is, as long as I live, the court will have to bite the bullet and continue the campaign. They have no reason to surrender—they can't just sell me out as the leader."

These past few days, he has been teetering on the brink of death, constantly on the edge of life and death, barely breathing. Yet, it is precisely this clarity of mind on the verge of death that has allowed him to see the full picture of this hopeless situation.

As a leading figure in the rebel army, the mere fact that he was alive made him a target.

The imperial court needed his head as proof to quell the rebellion; local forces also had to keep an eye on his banner to make their own moves; even within the rebel army, some wanted to protect him to continue their power struggle, while others feared that his continued existence would hinder their progress. No one could let go of him.

The old man looked at Du Yuan in a daze and said helplessly:
"The longer my life hangs by a thread, the longer the fighting in the southwest continues, and the more the people, whose bones have long been dried up, will have to burn in the fire pit for another day."

He knew all too well that by living, he was tying everyone's livelihood to a string that could snap at any moment.

The only way to break this deadlock is for him to die.

With his death, the court had an explanation, the rebel army lost its support, and the fighting would naturally subside.

Thinking of this, the old man coughed twice and then smiled contentedly.

“To gain so many benefits from the death of one person,” he said, his voice still hoarse but lighthearted, “it couldn’t be more worthwhile.”

If these words were spoken to someone else, they would be considered a 'bastard' by everyone who came along.

But at this moment, he was talking about himself.
Many words and many things, when the subject and object are changed, become worlds apart.

"I actually wanted to swallow this anger a long time ago, but I didn't dare until you came! Because I'm stupid, I'm dumb, I'm so blind that I didn't dare to bet that I guessed right."

The imperial court might be right; if the fighting stopped, the chaos in the southwest might gradually be brought back to normal. This thought lingered in his mind for a long time, but it always felt like holding a hot potato—he dared not grasp it tightly, much less gamble on it.

His experiences since the uprising made him realize that he was just an ordinary person, not one of those seemingly divine kings and generals in history.

Trapped in these deep mountains, all he could ever see was a tiny patch of sky, barely the size of a palm.

Fortunately, the immortal really did arrive.

He was completely relieved.

"I can speak to the imperial court. I can deal with the demons. It doesn't really have to come to this."

Du Yuan carefully considered her words before speaking.

A flicker of desire crossed the old man's eyes; no one wanted to die, and neither did he.

But that fleeting attraction only lingered in his eyes for a moment before he gently shook it away:
"I'm doing this to give an explanation to the living, and also to give an explanation to the dead. Although you said that if I hadn't gone to fulfill their wishes, I'm afraid even more people would have died."

"But in the end, it was I who personally caused the deaths of so many people."

At this point, he looked at a map in front of his bed with great dejection.

"I can't help but think that if it weren't for me, perhaps more people could have survived? Even setting aside the matter of treason, I've made far too many mistakes!"

The map was covered with all sorts of red crosses. People who didn't understand it might think that they represented important locations, and even many people within the rebel army couldn't understand the map.

Only he himself knows what that means.

Every place marked with a red cross indicates that someone died in that place because of his Arabian Nights tale.

He was not particularly capable; he was just lucky and happened to have read a few Taoist scriptures. That's how he unwittingly became the leader of the Taoist community in the southwest and managed to save up some food to help some disaster victims.

In this southwestern region, the Taoist lineage has only two mountains: Hansong Mountain and Guanzhen Mountain.

He was the abbot of Guanzhen Mountain, and the undisputed leader of the Taoist community in Southwest China.

The imperial court called him a wild Taoist priest from who-knows-where, but that was only to keep it from the common people knowing that the one who started the uprising was such a person.

Du Yuan said no more. He knew that the old man's idea was the best solution for the court, the rebel army, and himself.
So Du Yuan changed the subject and said:
Is there anything else you'd like to say or do?

The old man struggled to lift his head and said:

"Old Taoist priest, I want to take a good look at how the rebel army is doing now."

Du Yuan nodded, then helped him get up from the bed.

The elderly man, who was so weak that he couldn't even get out of bed, suddenly felt his body regain strength.

He knew that this was a sign of divine mercy.

He said, with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation:
"You don't need to help me!"

"It's not in the way, it's not in the way."

Du Yuan helped the old man out of the central command tent.

When the soldiers outside saw that General Yingtian had actually stood up, they looked over in disbelief.

In their memories, the great general could pass away at any moment.

Now they can finally get out!
"General!" "General, are you alright?"

The soldiers swarmed around, each one of them beaming with joy and excitement.

Looking at the familiar faces before him, the old man lovingly grasped their hands and carefully examined each one, afraid of missing anyone.

"Don't worry, General, we're all fine!"

The smallest baby cried and said:

"Ever since you fell ill, we've been guarding outside the camp. We haven't dared to leave for a moment. Now, we're finally seeing you recover!"

The old man laughed heartily upon hearing this, but immediately he grabbed someone's empty sleeve and pressed on, asking:
"Ding Laosan, where's your hand?"

Even with only one hand left, the man who had been guarding outside with a knife immediately reddened his eyes and said, "General, don't worry, I'm fully recovered. It's just that last time, even with this hand gone, I couldn't protect little Zhangzi."

Before the words were finished, an old man with a weathered face squeezed out from the crowd and said in a gruff voice:

"General, don't listen to their bluffing. The brothers are all fine. Just yesterday, we raided a large clan and got several cartloads of salt! It's like snow. Don't worry, we'll make sure to cook you a decent pot of soup tonight!"

Du Yuan stood behind the old man, watching the soldiers chatter as they reported on the good things they had racked their brains to come up with. Although it was nothing more than collecting a few more bushels of grain and mending a few more pieces of clothing.

But that clearly reveals his true intentions!
It seems they had roughly guessed that the old man's condition was merely a final burst of energy before death.
"Great! Everyone looks energetic!"

The old man mumbled something, then suddenly coughed violently. Du Yuan quickly reached out to support his waist, but the old man pressed her hand down on his back. Those withered hands suddenly seemed to have strength.

"Let me take another look, let me take another look!"

The old man, panting, looked past the throng of people and gazed at the distant commander's flag, its corners fluttering in the wind and rain. It drew him towards that direction.

"General, we'll carry you over!"

The soldiers already understood and immediately helped the old man up. In the dark crowd, his thin figure was like a broken leaf, yet he was lifted up by countless hands and steadily moved towards the commander's flag.

There were so many soldiers, but only one old man.

Even though he tried his best to hold everyone's hand and remember everyone's face.

But the result was that he only cared about what was in front of him.

Just like before.
The soldiers carefully put the old man down.

Du Yuan had been waiting here for a long time.

Under this very banner, the old man seemed to be ignited by something. He suddenly straightened his back, pointed at the banner, and spoke to Du Yuan, his voice filled with undisguised pride:
"This flag was pieced together by the people. They tore apart whatever they could—winter coats, baby swaddling clothes—and worked through the night, stitch by stitch. They were illiterate and couldn't articulate any grand principles, but they embroidered the most tangible hope for us."

The old man's gaze slowly moved upwards, and the character seemed to be a ball of fire struggling incessantly in the wind and rain—it was a huge character for "live".

"From the very beginning, we never thought about conquering the world; we just wanted to survive!"

"They are, we are, we're all the same!"

The old man who said those words suddenly swayed.

Du Yuan and the soldiers around him tried to help him up, but he raised his hand to stop them.

Then, leaning on the large flag, he looked at Du Yuan and pleaded:

"I beg you... please let them live!"

The last sentence sounded as if the old man had forced it out of his throat.

The moment those words were spoken, a deafening roar suddenly resounded throughout the heavens and earth.

The torrential rain, which had been held back by the heavens, finally stopped.

The old man breathed his last in front of Du Yuan, but his eyes remained wide open, as if he was still worried and wanted to see something with his own eyes.

Du Yuan stood solemnly, then straightened her clothes and bowed respectfully to the old man.
"Don't worry, that's exactly why I came!"

With that thud, the old man's body, which he had been holding up, suddenly went limp. He slowly slid down the flagpole, leaned against the flag embroidered with the character "活" (life), and peacefully closed his eyes.

"Great General!!!"

The soldiers' clamor suddenly turned into a cry of anguish.

Someone suddenly knelt down with a thud, followed by a series of muffled thuds as knees slammed into the mud, instantly shrinking the dark mass of people by half. Only the wind whipped the corners of the flags, lashing them repeatedly above their heads.

Du Yuan let out a long breath, then squatted down and grasped the old man's withered hands.

After a moment, Du Yuan addressed the soldiers around her:

"On his deathbed, the old general told me that he wanted to build a temple for the people and soldiers who died in the southwest, both to commemorate their souls and to pray for the well-being of the people."

Finally, Du Yuan pointed in the direction she had come from and said:
"When I came here just now, I saw a Dragon-Locking Well in that direction. The feng shui there is excellent, and the meaning is profound. I'm thinking of building this temple there. What do you all think?"

The soldiers did not answer, but instead prostrated themselves before the two men.

(End of this chapter)