Journey to the West: Treasure Vase of the Great Dao-Chapter 594 - 328: Facing Directly
A storm had thus calmed down, the world seemed to regain its tranquility, yet everyone involved felt the tumultuous waves churning beneath the surface.
The tide of the era had rolled in, and even Divine Spirit could no longer remain aloof.
Arthur, watching the direction in which the divine beings departed, was silent, the heavy pressure weighing on his chest making it hard to breathe. He seemed to have already foreseen the future filled with destruction and death.
What could such an insignificant person as himself do for the future? Arthur gazed blankly towards the horizon.
"We have won!" Layton muttered to himself in disbelief.
After all, to be enemies with the legendary Demon, to conflict with the fearsome Divine Spirit, and to still stand here unharmed, everything felt like a dream. If anyone had spoken of such experiences before, Layton would have scoffed and accused them of boasting, but now that he was truly in the midst of it, he had to believe it had really happened.
Layton's voice awakened Arthur from his contemplation, making him look around at the hopeful faces surrounding him, and he revealed a brilliant smile saying, "That's right, we have won."
Although this victory was somewhat fortuitous and unexpected, it could not hide the fact that it was a victory. He had finally regained his own territory and taken the first step toward kingship.
The crowd erupted in excited shouts, their fears and worries at that moment turning entirely into ecstasy. They jumped and cheered like children, freely expressing their repressed joy on the devastated land.
That night, the territory was brightly lit, everyone celebrating their narrow escape from calamity. At the moment the Demon had self-destructed, they all thought they were about to face death, yet it had not occurred to them that the Old Monk and Arthur could turn the tide and dissipate such a terrible storm.
Now, those who had escaped death celebrated along with Arthur's followers, turning the whole territory into a sea of joy. A huge bonfire was lit above the now-levelled castle, and the people danced around it.
The Old Monk sat alone in a corner, gazing blankly at the blazing fire and the merry crowd, his face particularly calm in the light of the fire.
"Old friend, what are you thinking about?" Old Man Frey, with a bottle in his hand and a flushed face, sat down beside the Old Monk.
Always serious and known for his sternness, Frey was uncharacteristically joyful tonight, dancing with the crowd and competing in drinking with the young ones.
As soon as he sat down, the Old Monk's keen sense of smell detected the strong smell of alcohol. He looked at Frey with surprise. Although he had not known this old man for long, that didn't stop them from becoming close friends in a short period. He knew that his old buddy was usually rigid and very strict with people like Arthur and Layton, and had never seen him so unrestrained before.
"I wasn't thinking much, just feeling a bit sentimental. I wonder how long such a scene will last." The Old Monk spoke with a tone of pity, foreseeing the hardships to come, unsure how many here would survive.
Frey took a sip of the strong liquor in his hand, breathing out slowly, his gaze lingering on the massive bonfire, the light flickering across his face.
After a while, Frey gently patted the Old Monk's shoulder and said earnestly, "Old friend, I don't know what you and Arthur have seen, but I want to say, as long as we have fought hard and have no regrets, that's enough. As for the outcome, it's not something we can control."
"Leave it to fate?" the Old Monk asked with a smile.
"I once heard Young Master Arthur mention that the gentleman who saved him once said these words: Do your duty, leave the rest to heaven. I give you the same words." After saying this, he gently patted the Old Monk's shoulder again and walked towards the crowd, his demeanor carefree, seeming not to worry about the future at all.
The Old Monk watched his retreating figure, sighed softly, and after a long while, a slight smile appeared on his lips as he muttered to himself, "Perhaps you're right." At that moment, a light rekindled in his eyes.
Elsewhere, Arthur placed the Sword in the Stone at his feet, holding a somewhat yellowed cup in his hand, slowly sipping a glass of fine wine.
The spicy taste stimulated his taste buds, bringing a jolt to his somewhat weary spirit. Looking up, the crowd was still reveling, yet his heart felt desolately out of sync with the lively surroundings.
Beneath that giant bonfire was his family's castle, passed down for who knows how many generations, now reduced to ashes by the Demon's self-destruction, while the words of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom echoed in his mind. The world might face destruction, and what could someone like him do about it.
Arthur was born and grew up here; every grass and stone, every brick, and every smiling person was a part of his life. Yet one day, these things would be destroyed, these lovely people would be slaughtered.
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Every time he thought of this, a surge of anger ignited in Arthur's heart. He wanted to roar at the sky, to bellow at those menacing existences preparing to destroy the world, asking them why they had to do this.
