Yang Guo: I defied death and reached the heavens in The Return of the Condor Heroes

With his mind made up, he spoke calmly and decisively:

"I am willing to go; it is entirely up to Uncle Guo and Aunt Guo to make the arrangements."

Guo Jing and Huang Rong were both surprised that Yang Guo agreed so readily, and their expressions fluctuated.

Huang Rong felt a great weight lifted from her heart, and a faint smile appeared on her face. She was quite surprised by the outcome, but also secretly relieved.

Guo Jing's eyes were full of pity, a mixture of tenderness for his sensible nature and a hidden sense of guilt.

He reached out his rough, large hand and gently placed it on Yang Guo's shoulder, the force much gentler than usual:

"Good child, don't worry, when you arrive at the Quanzhen Sect, Master Qiu will definitely treat you well."

"Let's rest for two days, make all the necessary preparations, and then choose a day to set off."

Yang Guo didn't say anything more, only nodded slightly.

As he looked up, his gaze inadvertently met Huang Rong's.

She held a teacup in her hand, a faint smile playing on her lips, her expression calm and composed, all suspicion and scheming concealed beneath her gentle demeanor.

Yang Guo smiled faintly, lowered his head, and remained silent.

Huang Rong was slightly taken aback.

This smile showed neither gratitude nor obedience, nor a trace of grievance.

Only a calm and detached understanding seems to silently say: I know all your thoughts, I accept it calmly, and I don't care.

Her fingers tightened slightly as she held the cup, then slowly relaxed, her expression returning to normal.

......

Two days later, at dawn, the sea breeze was blowing along the coast of Peach Blossom Island.

Guo Jing and Yang Guo each carried a bag, their bundles crammed full, and the two boarded the boat, ready to depart.

"Guo'er, once you arrive at the Quanzhen Sect, you must follow Master Qiu's instructions and diligently cultivate the orthodox methods of Taoism."

Huang Rong spoke in a clear and bright voice, her expression light and cheerful.

"Your Uncle Guo will escort you the whole way; just follow his instructions in everything you do."

Yang Guo bowed deeply and said respectfully:

"Don't worry, Aunt Guo, I will keep your teachings in mind."

He turned around and stepped onto the gangplank.

Guo Jing bid farewell to his wife and daughters, and then stepped onto the ship's railing.

The white sails were raised, the sea breeze filled the canvas, and the small boat swayed slightly as it slowly sailed away from the dock.

Yang Guo stood at the stern of the boat, watching the island covered with peach blossoms gradually shrink into the distance, eventually turning into a hazy pink mist between the sea and the sky.

Guo Fu stood by the pier, her eyes red-rimmed, utterly bewildered as to why her father and Yang Guo had suddenly departed.

The brothers, Da Wu and Xiao Wu, stood quietly on the pier to see each other off, their expressions indifferent.

Only her hands, hanging by her sides, secretly clenched her clothes, her heart filled with a mixture of joy and trepidation.

Huang Rong stood at the end of the pier, watching the sails disappear completely into the horizon, her smile never fading.

The sea breeze ruffled a few stray hairs at her temples; she raised her hand to gently gather them, then turned to Guo Fu and said softly:

"Let's go back inside. Your father will be back in about a month."

Guo Fu looked up and asked:

"Mother, will Brother Yang come back someday?"

"Yes."

Huang Rong replied casually, her tone indifferent. She tightened her grip on her daughter's hand and slowly stepped onto the bluestone path covered with fallen peach blossoms.

The sea breeze carries peach blossoms, scattering them across the stone path before they are blown away again.

She took a few steps, then suddenly stopped, turned back to gaze at the vast sea, and silently prayed in her heart:

"I hope that Yang Guo will never return to Peach Blossom Island in his life."

......

Sailing on the vast ocean, dusk descends in an instant.

Above the vast ocean, the last rays of sunset have faded, and the boundless blue waves are bathed in the deep darkness of night.

The sea breeze, carrying salty, damp air, lapped against the hull of the ship, creating tiny, silvery white foam.

The lonely moon hangs coldly in the sky, its clear light spilling onto the water's surface, spreading a shimmering, chilly glow that stretches endlessly into the depths of the sea and sky.

Guo Jing set up a small pot in the cabin, ladled out a bowl of hot porridge, and handed it to Yang Guo.

Yang Guo accepted the porridge with both hands, nodded his thanks, and slowly sipped the hot porridge.

The sea breeze swept across the ship's side, ruffling a few stray hairs on his forehead.

Guo Jing sat beside him, quietly watching Yang Guo slowly sip his porridge.

After a long silence, he said in a low voice:

"Guo'er, Uncle Guo is sorry."

Yang Guo raised his head and put down the porridge bowl, his expression calm:

"Uncle Guo, what makes you say that?"

Guo Jing did not answer, but gazed at the vast sea, as if recalling past events.

After a long while, he slowly spoke:

"Your father and I became sworn brothers back then, but unfortunately he went astray and made a terrible mistake."

"I ultimately failed to persuade him to turn back, which is Uncle Guo's greatest regret in his life."

He turned to look at Yang Guo, his eyes filled with simple sincerity:

"You are Kangdi's flesh and blood, the only son of the Yang family. Uncle Guo should have kept you by his side, personally taught you martial arts, and watched you grow up."

"Now I have to send you to the Quanzhen Sect, which is thousands of miles away. When you get to the afterlife, I really don't know how I will explain it to Uncle Yang and your father."

Hearing these heartfelt words, Yang Guo knew that Guo Jing's words were sincere and he was at a loss for words. He could only shake his head gently.

He didn't offer any words of comfort, but simply picked up the bowl of porridge again and silently lowered his head to drink it slowly.

The sea breeze fluttered his clothes, but the boy's back remained ramrod straight, not bent in the slightest.

They remained silent the entire way.

Three days later, the small boat reached the shore in eastern Zhejiang.

Guo Jing bought two fine horses, and the two rode north along the official road.

The further north you go, the heavier the autumn frost becomes.

The leaves of the poplar trees along the roadside fell in profusion, withered yellow leaves swirling and drifting in the wind.

As the horse's hooves passed, they kicked up a fine dust that settled on our clothes, covering them with a thin layer of ash.

As we drove north, the scenery along the way was ever-changing.

The eastern part of Zhejiang is relatively peaceful. Passing through Yuyao and Shaoxing, the land is flat with green hills on both sides, the waterway is gentle, and villages are lined up one after another.

Tanaka is a place where rice stubble remains after the harvest. Although the houses are simple, the inns along the way are clean and offer a full range of dishes, including barley rice, fresh fish, and local sake.

Children play along the street, and villagers chat casually with travelers from other places without any sign of avoidance or wariness.

Once we crossed the Yangtze River to the north and entered the Huainan region, the scenery became increasingly desolate day by day.

Although this area was still under the jurisdiction of the Song court, most of the fields were abandoned and wild grasses had overgrown the official roads.

Occasionally, the sounds of drums and horns from the border could be heard in the distance.

Abandoned thatched cottages and broken walls can be seen everywhere along the roadside, and fertile fields have long been uncultivated, all due to the repeated raids by Mongol cavalry.

Along the official roads, a continuous stream of migrants from the south, young and old, were heading to Jiangnan and Xiangyang to escape disaster.

Among them, there might be an old farmer carrying several bundles of firewood on his back, his back hunched, his face deeply lined as if carved by a knife.

Yang Guo reined in his horse and slowed down, his gaze sweeping over the figures of people coming and going along the way.

Everyone's eyes were empty, devoid of any light, merely existing listlessly in this chaotic world.

The two rode their horses for several days.

One day, we stopped at a roadside teahouse for a bite to eat and a rest.

The shop owner was a lame old man who, holding a rough pottery teapot, shakily stepped forward to pour tea.

His thin palms were covered with thick calluses and bore the scars of old frostbite.

Looking at those hands, Yang Guo suddenly recalled the days when he begged for food in a dilapidated kiln in Jiaxing.

He silently broke off half a piece of bread and placed it in front of the old man's desk.

The old man was taken aback and thanked him repeatedly, but Yang Guo had already lowered his head and was eating the remaining half of the cake, as if he hadn't heard him.

After traveling north for several days, the two passed through a rural village and happened to arrive at a bustling market.

Villagers set up stalls on both sides of the road, some selling firewood, some selling vegetables, and others leading skinny donkeys waiting for workers.

In a corner of the market, a woman in tattered clothes was squatting, holding a two- or three-year-old child tightly in her arms.

The child was emaciated, except for his large, bright eyes, and his cries were faint, like a cat's meow.

An empty bowl was placed in front of the woman; it contained nothing.

Yang Guo reined in his horse, took out several copper coins from his pouch, dismounted, walked to the woman, and put all the coins into her bowl.

The woman looked up at him blankly, her lips moved but she didn't utter a sound. She just bowed deeply and hugged the child in her arms even tighter.

Yang Guo turned around and leaped onto his horse without uttering a word.

Guo Jing took it all in without saying a word and urged his horse to continue on its way.

After riding for a long time, Guo Jing finally spoke:

"Guo'er, your kind heart brings great comfort to Uncle Guo."

Yang Guo gently shook his head:

"A mere few copper coins could not ultimately save her family's lives."

Guo Jing remained silent for a moment, unable to refute.

The setting sun cast its rays slanting behind the two men, stretching the shadows of their two horses long across the dusty official road.