The Dark Shade at the Gate of All Wonders

Chapter 86 The Mysterious Glimpse of Light at the Gate of All Wonders

But the wisp of light between his brows grew brighter and brighter.

final-

It spread.

Like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples that spread out in concentric circles.

The pebble represents Li Yuan's thoughts, the lake water represents the emptiness within the carriage, and the ripples represent the light of one's true nature.

Round and round, endlessly, without end, reaching in all directions, to every corner, to every place that needs light.

The ripples spread outwards from Li Yuan in all directions.

It swept past the passengers with their eyes closed.

The passengers, with their eyes closed, all felt a slight warmth between their brows as the ripples passed by—

It was as if something, at that moment, gently touched their brows and softly knocked on the door of their hearts.

It swept past those who lay sprawled on the ground, still twitching slightly.

Those people were already too weak to move, but in the instant the ripples passed, their bodies suddenly felt light—

It was as if something had gently removed the invisible burden from their bodies.

We swept past the mess and the dead insects scattered on the ground.

The mess was still a mess, only the stench seemed to have lessened a bit;

The insect corpse was still an insect corpse, but the last trace of evil energy on its body was gently brushed away by the ripples, like dust blown by the wind.

It swept across the entire carriage.

From the front to the back of the car, from the floor to the ceiling, from the gap between every seat to the corner of every window.

The ripples were everywhere, reaching every corner, immersing every inch of space in that clear light.

It enveloped every person, every Gu worm, and every wisp of spreading poison.

Then-

Those people suddenly moved.

It wasn't a struggle, it wasn't a convulsion, it wasn't any painful reaction.

Rather, it is a kind of—

It was as if something was being gently "awakened" from within them.

The awakening is not violent or abrupt, but gentle, like the spring sunshine waking a sleeping seed. The seed itself doesn't even know when it woke up; it only finds itself breaking through the soil in a warm moment.

That awakening is not the result of external forces, but rather the maturation of internal factors—

Just like flowers bloom not because someone urges them to, but because the time comes, they naturally bloom.

A middle-aged man suddenly opened his mouth.

"cough"

He coughed softly.

A wisp of dark mist drifted out of his mouth.

The black mist was extremely light and faint, as light as a wisp of smoke and as faint as ink mixed with clear water.

When it floated out, it didn't struggle or resist; it was as if it had just come out for a breath of fresh air, as if it had already completed its mission and quietly left the stage.

The black mist floated into the air and then dissipated.

It vanished completely, without a trace, as if it had never existed.

Like morning dew meeting the sun, like frost flowers encountering warmth, they are not destroyed, but dissolved and returned to where they came from, back to that nothingness.

A young woman suddenly opened her eyes.

Tears glistened in her eyes, but they weren't tears of pain; rather, they held a kind of indescribable clarity, as if cleansed.

That clarity wasn't the clarity of tears, but the clarity of the soul—

It was as if something had gently wiped away the layer of dust that had covered her eyes for so long.

She herself didn't know when that layer of dust had settled on her, nor did she know when she started to have difficulty seeing things clearly.

But at that moment, she suddenly realized that the world before her had never been so bright.

She lowered her head and covered her stomach.

The surging, bloated feeling there was gradually disappearing.

It doesn't disappear suddenly, but rather fades away slowly, little by little, like the receding tide or the melting of ice and snow.

The decline wasn't rapid, but with each passing minute of decline, she felt a little more relaxed, a little more comfortable, and a little more truly alive.

An old man suddenly let out a long breath.

That breath was murky and heavy. The murkyness was the result of accumulated turbidity for an unknown period of time, and the heaviness was the result of weighing down someone for an unknown period of time.

With that exhale, it seemed as if he was expelling all the filth, all the pain, and all the suffering from his body.

But after exhaling, his complexion became noticeably rosier.

That rosy glow wasn't a fleeting, last-ditch red, but a red from smooth blood and qi circulation, a red from the renewed flow of vitality.

Like a dried-up riverbed being replenished with clear spring water, like withered branches sprouting new buds.

One by one.

Those who were originally tormented to the point of death by the Gu worms are now undergoing the same change; the Gu worms in their bodies are being "removed".

It wasn't caused by medication—

When medicine is forced upon them, there will inevitably be resistance, and with resistance comes pain. But they experienced no pain.

He didn't die from being pricked by a needle—

When needles are inserted, there will inevitably be struggle, and with struggle comes injury. But they were not injured.

Not destroyed by any tangible force—

When tangible forces destroy something, they inevitably leave traces, and traces leave residues. But they left no traces at all.

Instead, it was "resolved".

They were "exorcised".

To be "returned to nothingness".

The process of dissolving is not about annihilation, but about dismantling the form, energy, and spirit of the Gu worm bit by bit, breaking it down into its original form, into energy, into the most fundamental, neither good nor evil, life force between heaven and earth.

Just as ice melts into water, water turns into vapor, and vapor returns to the void.

The ice is gone, the water is gone, the steam is gone, but the most fundamental things in the world are still there.

The salvation is not about killing, but about gently converting the little bit of spirit within the Gu worm, that little bit of existence born of resentment and formed by evil curses.

Like leading a lost lamb back to the sheepfold, like sending a wandering traveler back to his hometown.

It's not about letting it perish, but about letting it return to where it belongs—back to the cycle of reincarnation, back to the realm of cause and effect.

That return to nothingness is not disappearance, but rather returning to emptiness.

But nothingness is not emptiness, but the origin of all things; returning to nothingness is not death, but another form of life.

When the Gu worm disappears, it is no longer a Gu worm; when the toxin disappears, it is no longer a toxin.

They simply returned to the space between heaven and earth, becoming the most primal energy between heaven and earth, waiting for the next aggregation and the next formation.

The Gu worms seemed to have encountered their natural enemy and dared not resist at all. They simply curled up into a ball and then disappeared.

That cowering is not out of fear, but out of instinct—just as beasts naturally yield to the ground when they see a dragon, just as rivers naturally flow to the sea.

That wasn't fear, but an instinctive submission, the most natural reaction when facing a higher being.

That dissipation is not death, but a return—

Like waves falling back into the sea, like dust falling back to the earth.

The waves have subsided, but the sea remains; the dust has settled, but the earth remains.

The Gu worm disappeared, but the trace of primordial energy that made it up remained.

It transformed into wisps of extremely faint black mist, drifting out from the seven orifices of those people.

What comes out of the eyes is as black as ink; it is the poison of the liver and the pterygium in the eyes.

If the substance emanating from the ear is black like smoke, it indicates the evil influence of kidney water and blockage in the ear.

What comes out of the nose is black like mist; it is the poison of the lung metal element, and it is the breath from the nose.

What comes out of the mouth is black as dust; it is an insect of the spleen and earth, and is the turbidity in the mouth.

The seven orifices are the gateways through which the human body connects with heaven and earth.

When a Gu worm enters, it enters through the seven orifices; when a Gu worm exits, it also exits through the seven orifices.

They entered silently and without a sound, so no one knew; they also left silently and without a sound, so no one knew either.

But what comes in is pain, and what goes out is illness.

The black aura grew thicker and thicker.

The entire carriage was filled with a thin layer of black mist.

The fog was extremely thin and faint, yet it was omnipresent and pervasive.

It floats in mid-air, like the twilight at dusk or the mist at dawn.

Within that mist lay the remains of Gu worms, the embers of poison, and the very source of all filth.

The remains are no longer remains, the embers are no longer embers, and the origin is no longer the origin. They have all been dissolved, transcended, and returned to nothingness, leaving only this last wisp of form, like a cicada shedding its skin, like a snake's skin, like the lingering fragrance left after a flower has fallen.

But the lingering fragrance wasn't pleasant; rather—

It is neither fragrant nor foul, neither clean nor dirty, like the chaos before heaven and earth were separated, like the nothingness before all things were born.

The black mist, though black, was no longer the filthy black, but a black that returned to its origin, a mysterious black, the mysterious hue of the gate to all wonders.

Wei Shufen stared blankly at all of this.

Her lips trembled slightly, and her bright black eyes were filled with disbelief.

She is a Gu master from the Miao region.

She knew better than anyone how difficult those Gu worms were to deal with.

They are living things.

It is not an inanimate object, not grass or trees, not metal or stone, but a living thing with flesh and blood, spirit and nature.

They wriggle in the darkness, traverse flesh and blood, and wander among the host's most tender organs.

They have their own will—

Although that will was only the size of a broad bean, it truly existed.

They experience hunger, fear, and anger, and they will fight to the death when they sense danger.

They will struggle.

They sensed it the moment the silver needle pierced the acupoint.

That stinging pain, that blockade, that despair of being cut off—

They will use all their strength to drill deeper, to drill into warmer internal organs, and to drill into places that silver needles cannot reach.

They will resist. The moment the poison is injected into their bodies, they will frantically secrete toxins—

It's not an ordinary poison; it's a poison that causes both the poison and its host to perish.

The toxins seep into the blood and bone marrow. When the poison takes effect, the host dies on the spot before the worms can be expelled.

Therefore, the exorcism of Gu poison in Miao territory has always been a war.

It was a war of life and death.

Every Miao Gu master is taught this principle from the very first day of their apprenticeship.

Gu is not a disease, not an injury, and cannot be cured by ordinary medical techniques.

The Gu is a sentient enemy; it is a life-or-death struggle between you and it.

Exorcising Gu is like slaying a dragon—

You need a more potent poison, a more ruthless method, and a deeper level of patience.

You must fight it, wear it down, and struggle with it within this fleshly body for a chance to survive.

But what I'm seeing now—

Those Gu worms didn't struggle at all.

They just curled up, trembled, and then disappeared.

Not killed—

Killing is violent; it is the shattering of blood and bones, a struggle between life and death.

The worms were not torn apart, crushed, or destroyed by any force.

It's not about being forced out that's painful; it's about the tug-of-war between insects and humans, a struggle where skin is torn and flesh is ripped apart.

The worms did not crawl out of the mouth and nose, nor did they emerge from the pores, nor were they expelled from anywhere.

They simply vanished.

Like morning mist meeting the sunlight.

Like ice and snow meeting the spring breeze.

Like darkness meeting dawn.

There was no resistance, no struggle, no dying frenzy.

They simply curled up, shrinking smaller and tighter, until they transformed into a wisp of extremely faint black mist, slowly drifting out from the person's pores, from the person's breath, from every inch of the person's skin.

The black mist was extremely light and thin, as light as a sigh and as thin as a fleeting dream.

It floated in the air, hovered for a moment, and then vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed, as if it were just an illusion.

It was as if they were not facing an enemy.

Rather, they are natural enemies.

It is the most primal fear that is etched deep in their blood and soul from the day they are born.

That fear is not the fear of being hunted—hunting is something you can fight back against, something you can escape from, something you can fight to the death for.

That fear is the collapse of existence itself—

Just as a shadow discovers that the light no longer needs it, just as an echo discovers that the valley no longer awaits it.

It's not that something is destroying them, but rather that something is telling them: you shouldn't exist.

Therefore, they cease to exist.

Wei Shufen's gaze slowly shifted to Li Yuan.

The figure in the moon-white Taoist robe still stood there quietly.

He did nothing.

He just kept his eyes closed.

Only the wisp of light between his brows continued to flow quietly.

That clear light was not the dazzling golden light she had just seen—it was not the golden rope binding the Gu Master, nor the giant hand that slapped the villain unconscious.

It was a completely different kind of light, as warm as the moon, as gentle as water, silent yet omnipresent.

The light seemed not to emanate from his brow, but rather to flow naturally from the depths of his being.

Like spring water gushing from the earth, like moonlight falling from the sky, it neither competes nor fights, it neither speaks nor utters a word, it simply shines.

But Wei Shufen knew that all of this was because of him.

Because he was "asking" for something.

Because he's "adjusting" something.

Because he is—

She was "exorcising" these curses in a way she couldn't understand at all.

She didn't know what it was.

She had never seen such methods before.

Miao people have Gu poison, the Central Plains have magic, Taoism has methods, and Buddhism has incantations—she had seen too many methods of exorcising evil and curing diseases, but none of them were like this.

There were no runes, no incantations, no gestures, and no external rituals.

He simply stood there, his eyes closed, letting the clear light flow quietly for a moment, and then the Gu worms vanished.

Like snow falling into a furnace.

Like ink dripping into a clear spring.

Like all impurities, it encountered the most primordial purity.