Though spring winds crossed, the past still turned to look.
Words spoken in three rivers' waters were entrusted to currents returning to the sea.
In memories of bygone days, the mottled years slipped away.
With only a single thought arising, even dreams held no trace.
Yuankong slowly climbed the steps carpeted with fallen leaves. The young śrāmaṇera wore a somewhat tattered kāṣāya and gazed toward the little pagoda as though looking up at the sky.
Below the steps, other śrāmaṇeras passed by chanting sutras, yet none saw a figure long absent making his way toward the Śarīra Pagoda.
His Golden Core was flawless, his aura contained.
So long as he wished it, mortals could not see him.
Yuankong had left Chanwood Temple with only a Qi Refining cultivation and had never returned since. Now that he had come back, he was a Golden Core True Person.
His cultivation had surpassed Senior Brother Yuanjing's, too.
The road to the Golden Core had not been difficult for Yuankong. He had simply cultivated slowly along the way, searching for answers within his heart, and then everything had followed as naturally as water flowing into a channel.
Yet his senior brother had spent his whole life without ever setting foot in the Golden Core realm.
Otherwise, he would have been waiting in the temple with a smile for Yuankong's return.
The bricks beneath Yuankong's feet felt familiar yet strange. He looked up at withered leaves sprouting buds, just as they had back then. But thinking carefully, he felt only that his memories had become like leaves...
Beginning to yellow.
He did not know whether he had been unwilling to remember back then, or whether he had already let go now.
Seen from afar, the steps leading from Chanwood Temple to the Śarīra Pagoda still