Chapter 45: The Dao Endures in Heritage, I Journey Afar

Zimo’s funeral was the grandest and most extraordinary ceremony held at the Jixia Academy in a hundred years.

There were no elaborate religious rituals, no mournful wailing, and no soul-calling chants. In accordance with Zimo’s final wishes, everything was kept simple. His coffin rested in the widest plaza of the Academy of Natural Philosophy, surrounded entirely by white chrysanthemums gathered spontaneously by the students.

That day, the sky was overcast, and lead-gray clouds pressed down low, as if the entire heaven and earth were mourning the departure of this great Confucian scholar. Throughout the Jixia Academy, from the outer courts to the inner courtyards, from young children to white-haired masters, thousands of people gathered here spontaneously. A vast, dark sea of people, yet completely silent.

Jiang Xiuyuan and Jiang Yiyi stood at the very front of the crowd. Jiang Yiyi had changed into plain white attire, her small face pale and her gaze hollow, as if her soul had been pulled from her body. Over the past few days, she neither cried nor made a fuss; she was merely silent. That quiet sorrow was more heartbreaking than any weeping or wailing could ever be.

The host of the funeral was the current libationer of the Academy, a highly respected elderly man. He was also one of the scholars who had initially opposed the study of natural philosophy and later transformed into one of its most ardent supporters.

The old libationer stepped onto the high platform, his gaze sweeping over the solemn and sorrowful faces below, his voice heavy yet resonant:

"Today, we are here to bid farewell to the Great Confucian of our Jixia Academy, Master Zimo."

"Master Zimo’s entire life was devoted to pursuing truth, reality, and knowledge. With the backbone of a Confucian, he practiced the great Dao of natural philosophy. He made us understand that to revere the heavens and the earth is not to blindly kowtow to their majesty, but to humbly explore their laws and comprehend their origins."

"He condensed his lifelong efforts into a single work, *New Treatise on the Investigation of Things*. This book is not meant for a single school of thought, but is a work that establishes a heart for heaven and earth, secures a destiny for the living people, and passes on the supreme learning for past sages! It is Master Zimo's final wish that no mournful music be played and no eulogy be chanted. He hoped that upon his departure, he would hear the 'Dao' he pursued echoing across the skies of this Jixia Academy."

The old libationer took a deep breath, drew a pristine bamboo slip from his sleeve, and slowly unrolled it. It was the opening chapter of the *New Treatise on the Investigation of Things*.

Using every ounce of his surging righteousness, he chanted in a clear, loud voice:

"The Way of Heaven has its constant laws; it does not exist for Yao, nor does it perish for Jie. Yet these laws are not unknowable, nor are they unexplorable. Now, to investigate things is to investigate the principles of all things under heaven. Principles are the manifestation of the Dao, the fundamental basis by which all things operate..."

His voice, like a great bell or a booming chime, echoed across the plaza.

Immediately after, the thousands of students below, as if inspired by a sudden calling, pulled out the pre-prepared handwritten copies of the *New Treatise on the Investigation of Things* from their robes. Following the old libationer, they began to read aloud in unison.

"...Therefore, water flowing downward is not due to its inherent nature, but is compelled by the gravitational pull of the earth. The moon suspended in the void is not a divine miracle, but the result of the equilibrium between repulsive and attractive forces. The might of thunder and lightning is not the wrath of heavenly gods, but the phenomenon of agitated positive and negative electrical charges..."

"...To know that it is so is not enough; one must know *why* it is so. Guided by hypothesis, grounded in empirical evidence, and bridged by logic, can one build the hall of cognition and breach the maze of ignorance..."

The voices of thousands merged into a majestic torrent. There was no sorrow in those sounds, yet they were filled with boundless strength. They were rational terms and rigorous deductions, combining to form an unprecedented, soul-stirring "Sound of the Dao."

This sound pierced through the lead-gray clouds and echoed in every corner of the Jixia Academy. It proclaimed the curtain falling on an old era and the dawning of a new one.

Jiang Xiuyuan listened quietly, a look of gratification appearing in his eyes. He knew that the seed he had sown eighty years ago was no longer merely sprouting. It had grown into a towering tree capable of withstanding wind and rain, and moreover, it had scattered countless new seeds across this land.

Though Zimo had departed, his thoughts and spirit had attained another form of "eternal life" through this *New Treatise on the Investigation of Things*, through the voices and hearts of these thousands of students.

He turned his head slightly to look at Jiang Yiyi beside him. The young girl remained immersed in her own world, seemingly unable to let the thunderous chanting pierce her ears. Her sorrow was private, pure, and impervious to dilution by any grand spectacle.

Jiang Xiuyuan sighed inwardly. Growth, after all, was a journey one had to walk alone.

When the funeral ended, the crowd gradually dispersed. Taking Jiang Yiyi and Jiang Xiaobai with him, Jiang Xiuyuan quietly left the Jixia Academy where they had lived for eighty years, without saying goodbye to anyone.

They walked along the path leading down the mountain, behind them the lingering sound of the Dao still echoing in the wind.

All the way, no one spoke.

Until they had walked very far, until the silhouette of the Academy was completely out of sight, did Jiang Yiyi finally speak, her voice hoarse and hollow: "Father, why are we leaving?"

Jiang Xiuyuan stopped in his tracks, turned to look at her, his gaze gentle yet profound: "Because the flame there has already been ignited; it no longer needs us to tend the fire. Our Dao lies in the distance."

He paused for a moment, then continued: "Yiyi, I know you are deeply saddened. Zimo's departure has made you experience the loneliness of longevity so vividly for the very first time."

"Father..." Jiang Yiyi's tears welled up once more. "Longevity is too bitter. We have to continually watch the people around us grow old and die. Every encounter is predestined to end in parting. What meaning does such a life hold?"

Jiang Xiuyuan did not answer her question directly. He reached out, gently wiping the tears from his daughter's face, and pointed toward the endless mountain ranges and shifting clouds in the distance, slowly speaking:

"We cannot stop death, just as we cannot stop the setting of the sun, the rising of the moon, or the changing of the four seasons. This is one of the most fundamental laws of the universe, the manifestation of the 'Second Law of Thermodynamics' in the form of life. But, Yiyi, look."

He pointed to his own heart, and then to Jiang Yiyi's heart.

"Though Zimo has left, is he not still living within our memories? His voice and smile, his radiance when debating with you, his dying entrustments—are they not clearly carved right here?"

Jiang Yiyi nodded in a daze.

"Is not his thought written into the *New Treatise on the Investigation of Things*, being studied and passed down by tens of thousands of people, and will it not influence even more in the future? Is this, too, not a form of living?"

Jiang Xiuyuan's voice was filled with strength: "Yiyi, the meaning of longevity perhaps does not lie in how long we ourselves can live or how many sights we can witness. One of its meanings lies in our ability to become a 'vessel,' a 'inheritor.' We can carry those departed, beautiful souls, remember their stories, and bring their thoughts, their spirit, and their dreams into a more distant future, sharing them with even more people."

"We helped Zimo ignite the flame of natural philosophy in the sacred land of literature. We remember them, we inherit them, and their lives are thus continued through us. This is the finest solace we can offer them."

She raised her head, looking into her father's eyes, which seemed to contain boundless wisdom. Within her tear-filled gaze, a trace of enlightenment slowly dawned.

Indeed, to remember them, to inherit them.

Perhaps this was the way immortals fought against eternal loneliness.

"Father," she wiped away her tears, her gaze regaining its firmness, "I understand now. Where are we going next?"

Jiang Xiuyuan smiled with gratification.

"We are heading to the Floating Cloud Immortal City—the largest gathering place for independent cultivators in the Eastern Domain."