This is so dishonest!

Chapter 480 Fatal Fate, Xihe's Mud Cart

In Li Yuan's third year in the industry, his career finally encountered an unprecedented change.

That day, the old director of the orphanage called him.

On the phone, the old dean's voice was filled with undisguised worry.

He said that someone had sent Li Yuan an anonymous letter.

The letter contained only one line of poetry:

"Too clever by half, and you'll end up losing your life."

Upon hearing this, Li Yuan's face instantly darkened.

He was well aware that his work had offended countless people.

In the past, Li Yuan had received similar threatening letters before.

However, those threats were always directed at him personally.

With the help of Editor-in-Chief Luo and relevant departments, those hiding behind the scenes dared not act too arrogantly.

But this time it was completely different.

This letter was sent directly to the orphanage.

Upon learning of this, Editor-in-Chief Luo did not hesitate. He immediately picked up the phone and said in a heavy voice, "I'll call my teacher."

His teacher was a highly respected and influential figure in the journalism world.

Not long after, a heated argument broke out in the office.

Luo Chuan, who was always composed and easygoing in front of Li Yuan, lost his composure for the first time.

He roared, argued, and even pleaded into the phone.

In the end, everything fell silent.

Looking dejected, Luo Chuan turned on the speakerphone.

Li Yuan heard a sigh filled with helplessness and exhaustion coming from the other end of the phone.

"Xiao Chuan, stop."

"The matter you've been investigating recently has far-reaching implications."

"You...you must stop now."

Luo Chuan silently hung up the phone.

He walked over to Li Yuan and patted him on the shoulder.

"Xiao Yuan, I'm giving you a month's leave."

"You...go back to Linzhou and get some rest."

"It's a good opportunity to visit the old director and the children."

Li Yuan didn't speak; he simply looked at Luo Chuan with a calm yet heartbreaking gaze.

"Editor-in-chief, everything we've done is right, isn't it?"

Luo Chuan looked into Li Yuan's clear and persistent eyes, which held no trace of retreat, only a pursuit of truth.

He felt a sudden pang in his heart, as if he had been pricked by a needle.

He turned away abruptly, unwilling to look into those eyes again, for fear that he would waver.

He slammed his fist heavily on his desk, making a dull thud.

"I know you're not reconciled! And I feel the same way." His voice was filled with suppressed anger and helplessness.

“But… Xiao Yuan, you are still young, and you have a long road ahead of you. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

He tried to calm himself down and said in an almost pleading tone:
Believe me, justice may be delayed, but it will never be absent.

"Then... how long do we have to wait?" Li Yuan asked softly, yet with unparalleled clarity.

Luo Chuan was speechless.

A few days later, Li Yuan returned to the familiar Linzhou orphanage.

He bought several volumes of Taoist scriptures and sat under the big banyan tree every day, reading them with great interest.

"Therefore, the Book of Changes has the Supreme Ultimate, which gives rise to the Two Forms, the Two Forms give rise to the Fourth Uncle, the Fourth Uncle gives rise to the Eighth Child, and after giving birth to this child, the mother is forgotten..."

For several days in a row, he was muttering to himself, chanting these Taoist scriptures that he had modified himself.

His unusual mental state startled the old dean.

“Xiao Yuan, if… if being a reporter is really not easy, then let’s quit.”

The old dean looked at him with heartache, gently stroking his head with his wrinkled hands, and offered words of comfort.

"Why don't you get a teaching certificate and become a teacher? It would be nice to teach the children."

Upon hearing this, Li Yuan smiled.

He put down the scriptures in his hand and said to the old dean, "Dean, don't worry, I'm fine."

"Isn't this just me imitating the lyrics you wrote for me back then?"

The old dean was delighted to hear this.

"What do you mean by learning to write lyrics like me?"

"That's because you've been unruly since you were little."

“When I taught you to write, I gave you proper song lyrics to copy, but you copied them all messed up.”

"I had no choice but to make up a couple of lines myself, but you've taken it so seriously."

Li Yuan also laughed.

He stayed quietly in the orphanage for seven whole days.

During those seven days, he played with the children and helped the director repair the courtyard wall, as if he had returned to his carefree childhood.

Seven days later, he bowed deeply to the old dean and offered his resignation.

"Brother Luochuan said that justice may be delayed, but it will never be absent."

His eyes regained their firmness and brightness, like tempered steel.

"I've thought about this for seven days, which means justice has been delayed by seven days."

"Now, I should go back."

"Some people are destined for hell."

The old dean looked at him, his lips moved, and he sighed.

"Silly child, where in this world is there a hell?"

Li Yuan smiled and said, "It will happen."

The old director, along with all the children, stood at the entrance of the orphanage, silently watching Li Yuan's resolute figure walk further and further away until it disappeared at the end of the street.

Later, Li Yuan found the competitor of the person he was reporting and made a deal with him.

He used the materials he had to secure the other party's promise to protect the orphanage.

Afterwards, Li Yuan compiled a complete report and submitted it.

At the same time, he exposed some of the most crucial and shocking evidence through his various "aliases".

An unprecedented upheaval ensued.

Not long after, Li Yuan was involved in a terrible car accident while out and about.

An out-of-control dump truck crashed into his car, leaving it completely wrecked.

He died on the spot.

Upon learning the news, Luo Chuan, a man of unyielding spirit, wept bitterly. Ultimately, he suppressed his grief and personally presided over Li Yuan's funeral.

At the funeral, the white-haired old dean wept uncontrollably and fainted several times.

Many disciples of the Xuanmen sect came from all over the country to pay their respects to their "Master Xuan".

One day after Li Yuan's death, both Editor-in-Chief Luo and the former dean received a letter with the same content.

The letter had been written by Li Yuan in advance.

There are only a few words above.

"The sacred deeds of the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns have deceived countless travelers."

"How many remarkable figures have there been? Robber Zhi and Zhuang Qiao have left their mark on posterity, and King Chen rose up to wield his yellow battle-axe."

"The song is not yet finished, the east is white."

After reading it, Luo Chuan burst into tears.

Later, he resigned.

Luo Chuan left that bustling yet cold city with his family.

He went to Li Yuan's hometown, Linzhou City.

He lived there and became an ordinary teacher.

I teach the children and tell them stories every day.

~~~~
A rainy day.

Fine, dense rain, like cow's hair, fell continuously from the gray sky.

The entire city of Linzhou was shrouded in a damp and hazy rain.

The cemeteries on the outskirts of the city appear even more tranquil and solemn.

The rain washed over the cold tombstones, as if softly chanting a mournful requiem for the souls who lay there.

Xuan Qing's figure quietly appeared in this peaceful place.

He was dressed in a long black robe, holding an old-fashioned oil-paper umbrella, and walked slowly on the wet stone road.

Raindrops fell on the umbrella, making a crisp "tap...tap..." sound, like the rhythm of time.

Finally, he stopped in front of Li Yuan's tombstone.

In the black-and-white photo on the tombstone, the young reporter still has that bright smile full of sunshine and ideals.

The photo was already soaked by the rain, blurring the edges.

Xuanqing gazed quietly at that familiar face that belonged to "himself".

His eyes, deep and complex, seemed to traverse endless time and reincarnation, engaging in a silent dialogue with that long-gone, courageous soul.

He reached out and gently placed a bunch of brightly blooming, blood-red spider lilies in front of the tombstone.

Immediately afterwards, Xuan Qing quietly activated the Dark Dao Fruit, which represented "end" and "destiny," from the endless sea of ​​Dao.

As the Dao Fruit merged with him, Li Yuan's soul imprint, which had long since vanished into the world, was re-condensed by this supreme power.

In the end, he transformed into a beam of light that was pure to the extreme.

The light flashed through the tomb, traversing the boundary between reality and illusion, flowing upstream, heading straight for the primordial world at the beginning of creation and the origin of all things.

"Huh? There are still people here?"

Just then, a voice filled with vigilance and surprise rang out not far behind him.

Xuanqing turned around.

Several men dressed in plainclothes, with a capable demeanor, were seen leading a woman whose hands were handcuffed, walking from a path in the distance.

When they saw Xuan Qing standing quietly in front of Li Yuan's tomb, holding an umbrella, the plainclothes officers were visibly stunned.

A barely perceptible hint of tension flashed in their eyes.

Then, one of the middle-aged plainclothes officers, who appeared to be the leader, quickly realized what was going on.

He winked at his companion, then quickly stepped forward, forcing a friendly smile, and asked:
"Hello, friend."

"Excuse me... are you also a 'disciple of the Xuanmen'?"

"We've come to pay our respects at Teacher Ah Xuan's grave."

Xuanqing's gaze calmly swept over them one by one.

The group of five carried only one bouquet of flowers.

The plainclothes officers seemed to realize the awkward situation as well, and could only awkwardly explain:

"We...we were just on a business trip, passing through Linzhou, and our schedule was rather rushed."

"We just went to several flower shops, and this was the only bouquet we could buy."

"so……"

Seeing the plainclothes officers whose faces were filled with awkwardness, Xuan Qing smiled.

"It's fine."

His voice, like a gentle breeze after the rain, easily dispelled the awkward atmosphere.

"As long as it comes to your mind."

"I think that if Teacher Ah Xuan were alive, he certainly wouldn't care about these formalities."

After speaking, Xuanqing nodded slightly to them.

Then, holding the oil-paper umbrella, he turned and slowly walked out of the cemetery.

His figure quickly disappeared into the hazy rain, as if he had never been there.

The plainclothes officers, who had been on edge, all breathed a sigh of relief.

They invited the woman in the middle, who had remained silent the whole time, to come forward.

The other person walked up to Li Yuan's tombstone.

He first looked at the spider lily next to him with some doubt.

Then, she put down the bouquet of white daisies and bowed deeply to the tombstone.

[Captain, thank you for helping me complete the 'Great Dao Transformation into Emptiness' stage.]

My return this time was unexpected, and I ended up here.

[When I received the mission from the organization's leader, I recognized you immediately.]

[However, it seems you haven't awakened any memories.]

[Actually, this is for the best. If you awakened your memories, even with the karma of the Lich War, I wouldn't dare to bump into you.]

Don't worry, I've taken care of everything else for you.

Those who should have been arrested have been arrested, those who should have been sentenced have been sentenced, and those who should have been executed have been executed.

Now that I've turned myself in, and the case is finally settled, it's time for me to begin the next chapter of my journey—to find my husband.

If you ever think about this car accident, please don't blame me!

We can make an agreement!

After Xihe finished her eulogy, the plainclothes officers also remained silent for a few minutes in front of Li Yuan's tomb.

Then, they took Xihe away.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

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(End of this chapter)