Chapter 213
This is both the responsibility and the duty of the monarch.
Sita stopped crying and stared at Hebe with her eyes open.
Is this the price to pay?
"Yes, this is just the smallest of many costs," Hebe said. "Now, you may go down the mountain."
Sita's lips trembled as she forced herself to kneel before Hebe and then hurriedly ran down the mountain.
In the distance, the sound of sobbing, which could no longer be suppressed, could be faintly heard.
"Grandmaster."
Hanuman rose and bowed to Hebe with his palms together.
"Monkey, what do you have to say now?"
"Replying to the Ancestor..." Hanuman took a deep breath, "This disciple has long Sita as my junior brother. Now that she is about to leave Fangcun Mountain forever, I... I cannot bear it... I believe the Ancestor feels the same way."
"This disciple is willing to follow her and will surely bring her back to Fangcun Mountain!"
Hanuman bowed his head and prostrated himself on the ground, feeling uneasy.
A moment later, he heard Hebe's emotionless voice from above. "Alright, then you can go down the mountain with her."
"However, my promise still stands."
—If you encounter calamity, call my name.
Hanuman could no longer hold back his tears. He wept and bowed to Hebe again and again as he walked down the mountain, turning back every few steps.
In Fangcun Mountain, the area under the Bodhi Tree has once again become quiet and serene.
Kama secretly glanced at Hebe and saw a helpless expression on the face of the girl with long flaxen hair.
It was an emotion unique to long-lived beings, a helplessness born from anticipating the future yet still having to push it forward.
"These mountains have become lonely again." Hebe turned her head and smiled slightly.
Kama could no longer hold back her sorrow. She went over and gently embraced Hebe, holding her in her arms.
"World Honored One, please sleep a little longer."
"No, I will never fall asleep again," Hebe replied.
But her eyes still closed slightly.
In the silence where time seemed to slow down, suddenly, Hebe's voice rang out once more.
"Kamadiya".
"World Honored One, I am here."
"This Bharata world is absolutely rotten, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's terrible."
"But I assure you."
Hebe slowly straightened up, and a halo of light swirled from behind her to her eyes.
From behind the halo came her resolute voice.
"Everything will be alright, everything will be in order."
Outside Fangcun Mountain, amidst the mist, above the lake.
Sita had already wiped away her tears.
She understood. Since the patriarch had said so, she was determined to make something of herself.
He wanted to return to Fangcun Mountain with dignity and honor, so that the patriarch would look at him with new eyes and acknowledge him as her most outstanding disciple.
The fog completely dissipated, but Hanuman's voice could be heard from behind.
"Sita, wait, Sita!"
Sita's heart, which had just calmed down, instantly became agitated again.
She turned around angrily and swung the Golden Ring at Hanuman.
Clang!
Hanuman's long staff suddenly appeared in his hand, knocking the Golden Ring away to the side.
"Sita! Listen to me..."
"I don't want to hear any more right now!" Sita roared as he recalled the Golden Ring, and the Red Ribbon on his body flew out like dragons and snakes.
Hanuman exhaled.
His body vanished instantly, and the next moment he appeared in front of Sita, extending a punch in an attempt to repeat his previous trick and smash her off the wheels of fire.
But the sensation from the fist didn't feel like a human body; instead, it felt like a mountain made of diamonds!
It was not Sita who was repelled, but Hanuman!
Blessed with indestructible strength!
This not only shocked Hanuman, but also calmed Sita down.
She realized that the ancestral master's blessing was truly protecting her.
The Golden Ring fell, Red Ribbon flew back.
Sita clasped his hands together before Hanuman and said, "I'm sorry, senior brother... I acted impulsively. It's all my fault. Please forgive me."
"Since you've said that, what else can I say? I forgive you." Hanuman came over with a smile. "I've also told the patriarch that I'll go down the mountain with you."
"Why, why?" Sita asked, his eyes wide.
She could, of course, understand the immense difficulty hidden within Hanuman's seemingly casual remark.
Hanuman was clearly tired of Bharata's worldly life, and went through great hardships to reach Fangcun Mountain and pay homage to the patriarch.
He could have stayed in the mountains and continued to accompany the patriarch in his spiritual practice, so why did he have to ruin his future and step into the mortal world again?
This is completely unnecessary!
Hanuman just smiled helplessly, looking at Sita as if he were looking at his own child.
"Silly child," Hanuman said, "I watched you grow up. Whether as an elder or a senior brother... how could I not protect you?"
"Let's go, let's say goodbye to everyone in the village together."
282 human sacrifices (8k)
The road home has been tamped down many times, and the paving stones have been replaced twice.
A light drizzle was falling from the sky, Sita of fear and anticipation.
The village chief, who had aged considerably, came out when he heard the knocking. Seeing the expressions on Hanuman and Sita, he knew what had happened.
He put down the bowl in his hand, wiped his hands on his clothes, and said, "Wife!"
A woman, who looked much older, came out carrying a package.
She said nothing, but carefully opened the package. Inside were some small metal coins, mostly copper coins, with a few gleaming silver.
"It's not like in the village outside; we don't need this money to buy things," the woman said softly. "We've collected a little over the years, and we're very careful with it."
She put several finished clothes and shoes into the package, Sita could tell at a glance that they were her size.
"Dad, Mom, you..." Sita's voice choked with emotion.
"What parents in the world wouldn't understand their daughter's feelings? Besides, we knew it even before you were born..."
The village chief took out a pipe, his hand trembling as he lit it three or five times before finally wiping it, the smoke obscuring his thick beard.
They knew from the beginning that this small village could not keep Sita.
The mother carried the package and hung it on Sita's body.
She was already in tears.
For a moment, Sita almost wavered in her decision; she wanted to stay, to stay in the place where she was born and raised.
But her mother said nothing, only gave her a gentle hug, then got up and stepped back a few paces.
Hanuman said softly, "Let's go."
Sita turned around and had only taken a few steps when her father rushed over and shoved the two jars into her arms.
"This is your favorite chicken giblets and pickled green beans; you might not even be able to buy it outside," the father said. "If you encounter any hardship outside, just come back. We'll always be here for you."
"Father, Mother, please take good care of yourselves. I, I..." Sita said softly.
She tucked her clothes in tightly and walked into the distance, braving the misty rain.
Hanuman was standing at the village entrance waiting for her.
"Brother, which way should we go?" Sita asked.
"The patriarch said you are to inherit the mandate of heaven for the Ayodhya." Hanuman scratched his chin. "Is the Ayodhya located in the southeast... or the southwest?"
"It's just to the south, after all," Sita, raising his head.
"You're right, it's in the south after all."
The Immortal Zhongyou expended a great deal of effort to leave the Kurukshetra.
The reason is that after Ji Yu's death, a very strong influence was produced—there were strong winds in the sky, and Reed and fox lilies on the ground that caused confusion.
The Immortal Zhongyou performed a ritual around the Kurukshetra to contain these influences and prevent them from spreading.
According to his estimate, it will take at least forty or fifty years for these effects to gradually weaken; and for them to disappear completely, it will take another hundred years.
With the abilities of Immortal Zhongyou, this is the best they can do.
As they traveled north, the many tragic scenes that the Immortal Zhongyou witnessed caused him to furrow his brow and his face to be filled with worry.
The Sixteen Kingdoms, originally a chaotic world of war on the Ganges Plain, were already beyond anything we could have imagined.
However, after a series of major events, such as the ascension of the Sugarcane King and the disappearance of the Ravana, the number of warring nations had reached more than twenty.
This doesn't even include the smaller countries.
Bharata is a fertile land, with fertile soil near the Taiga valleys capable of growing almost any crop.
However, along the way, the Immortal Zhongyou encountered no fewer than ten village ruins.
Some of them were villagers who voluntarily migrated and abandoned their homes before the war broke out; others were slaughtered by soldiers, and all their accumulated wealth and food were looted.
The group walked and stopped, praying for the villages destroyed by swords and war.
Even though he knew that there was no afterlife in this world.
At times like these, everyone always thinks of Rama, who was shattered by a single arrow from Jiyu, the poor infant who was killed by an arrow while still in his swaddling clothes...
The Immortal Zhongyou's expression grew even more sorrowful as he continued northward.
Between the North and the South, there was a relatively prosperous city-state situated on land where three rivers intersected, effectively controlling the vital transportation routes between the north and south.
This area has been a strategic location fought over by military strategists since ancient times.
However, the tyrant of the city-state was wise enough, and with two demigod heroes born from divine inspiration in the city, it was not annexed by any major power and remained independent.
Years of war forced people to migrate to cities.
The Immortal Zhongyou were not stopped when they entered the city-state.
When Kshatriya from other countries come to visit, it requires a complicated process, but my friend has already become Brahmin Immortal, the most honored among the Brahmin.
The weather was hot, and everyone's foreheads were covered in sweat.
A sweet aroma wafted from the shops along the roadside.
It was a shop that was hawking "sweet water".
The sweet water of that era was not much different from the homemade drinks sold on the streets of Mumbai in later years, and was even relatively cleaner.