Chapter 55:沧海桑田，史书一页

The spring breeze once again turned the lands of Great Xia green, as if trying to cover up the blood and fire of the past autumn and winter.

The rule of the Qingyang Sect had stabilized. Rather than establishing a new dynasty, they divided the entire former territory of Great Xia into dozens of "pastoral domains," appointing Foundation Establishment disciples within the sect as "pastoral guardians" responsible for managing mortals, plundering resources, and selecting children with spiritual roots.

The former Heavenly启 City was renamed "Qingyang City," becoming the main stronghold of the Qingyang Sect in the mortal world. The old imperial palace was converted into the residential palaces of the sect master and elders.

The mortal world had thoroughly degenerated into a vassal of the immortal sects. History seemed to have regressed to the era before Xia Qiyuan, or perhaps an even worse state. Because this time, pressing down upon the heads of the mortals was a tightly organized and immensely powerful immortal cultivation sect, leaving them with no possibility of resistance.

Jiang Xiuyuan and his party did not linger long among the ruins.

One early morning, they left this land that had witnessed three hundred years of shifting winds and clouds, and walked slowly toward the east, in the direction of the rising sun.

They walked very slowly, like two genuine, weary travelers.

Jiang Xiaobai's mood remained very low. She had not spoken for several days, merely following silently behind. The calamity of the fallen nation had dealt a heavy blow to her innocent and carefree nature.

Jiang Yiyi appeared increasingly silent. Her gaze frequently turned toward the land behind them that was gradually receding into the distance, her expression complex. There was pity, melancholy, and contemplation, but the only thing missing was anger and resentment.

Those hundreds of years of personal experience acted like the sharpest carving knife, etching profound truths deep into her soul.

When they walked to the shores of the East Sea and saw the boundless, azure ocean, Jiang Xiuyuan stopped in his tracks.

The sea breeze blew through his snow-white hair, his robes fluttering as if he might ride the wind away at any moment.

From inside his robe, he took out something.

It was a very thick book, its cover bound in an unknown animal skin, looking archaic and heavy. The book was thread-bound in the mortal fashion, employing no magical power whatsoever, yet it was exceptionally sturdy.

On the cover, written in an archaic and unadorned script, were two large characters: *The Book of Xia*.

Jiang Xiuyuan handed this book to Jiang Yiyi.

Jiang Yiyi reached out and took it, immediately feeling the book's profound weight—not just physical heaviness, but the weight of the three hundred years of time it carried.

She turned to the first page, upon which was written Jiang Xiuyuan's familiar, vigorous handwriting:

"In the 36th year of the Qiyuan Era, Summer, the Imperial Tutor first met Xia Qiyuan at the Jixia Academy in Heavenly City. The man possessed the bearing of a majestic monarch, and said: 'If I can secure peace for generations eternal, I am willing to bear the burden, and though millions may bar my way, I shall go!'... On this day, I accepted the invitation to become the Imperial Tutor."

She turned the pages one by one.

Inside the book were detailed accounts of how Xia Qiyuan implemented reforms, how he balanced the sects, and how he founded a golden age. It recorded every conversation Jiang Xiuyuan had with him, every single decision they made.

It recorded the prosperity of the century-long golden era, the ten thousand household lights of Heavenly City, and the ringing chants from the Jixia Academy.

It also recorded Xia Qiyuan's longing for longevity before his death and his ultimate acceptance.

Then, the tone of the book shifted.

It recorded the preservation efforts of Xia Jing, the hedonism of Xia Xun, the suspicion of Xia Yiyan... the merits and flaws of generation after generation of monarchs, down to the smallest detail, were all contained within.

It recorded how the national treasury went from full to empty, how the hearts of the people went from united to scattered, and how the laws went from strict and clear to corrupted.

Finally, it recorded the invasion of the Qingyang Sect, the tragic and heroic battle cries of the last emperor Xia Yun, and the great fire of Heavenly City.

Spanning a full three hundred years, the rise and fall of a dynasty, the waxing and waning of a civilization, were all condensed within this thick *Book of Xia*.

This was not a cold historical record; between the lines, it was filled with Jiang Xiuyuan's observations and reflections, and even the snippets of daily life shared among him, Jiang Yiyi, and Jiang Xiaobai over these three hundred years. For instance, Jiang Xiaobai learning for the first time to trade ancient stones for candied hawthorns, or Jiang Yiyi successfully applying acupuncture to a villager for the very first time.

This was both a national history and a family chronicle.

"Father... did you write this?" Jiang Yiyi's voice trembled slightly. She had not expected that while acting as "Imperial Tutor" and "Physician," her father had also played the role of "Chief Historian."

"Yes." Jiang Xiuyuan nodded, his gaze wandering toward the misty, boundless sea. "I wrote for a full three hundred years."

He reached out and gently stroked the cover of the book, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

"Yiyi, you must remember. We are travelers of time. In the eyes of the Heavenly Dao, we may be no different from ants. But where we are luckier than ants is that we possess long lives and lucid memories."

"This allows us to be more than mere passersby; we can become witnesses and recorders. Stars will fall, dynasties will alternate, and oceans will turn into mulberry fields. Countless people and countless events will be washed away without a trace by the long river of time. But as long as we record them, as long as we write them down, then they have never truly vanished."

He looked at Jiang Yiyi, his gaze deep and gentle.

"History will not repeat itself identically, but it always rhymes. Look at the rise and fall of Great Xia, and how similar it is to the countless perished dynasties recorded in the ancient texts you have read. The founders strive diligently, the successors maintain or grow mediocre, and later still, the descendants prove unworthy, plagued by internal troubles and external invasions, until they are ultimately replaced by new forces. This is the law, the destined cycle of mortal civilization."

"We see through it not to become cold and indifferent, but so that when we face all this, we may possess greater compassion and understanding. We record it not to judge anyone's merits or faults, but to leave a proof of existence for those bygone times."

Jiang Yiyi held *The Book of Xia* tightly in her arms. Her father's words were like a ray of light, illuminating the very last trace of confusion in her heart.

Eternity does not mean something exists forever. Palaces will collapse, dynasties will perish, and even the stars have an end to their lifespans.

True eternity is the act of "witnessing" itself.

It is people like her and her father crossing the dimensions of time to see, to hear, to feel, and to record. It is etching those brief, fragile, yet incomparably vivid lives and stories into one's own memory, writing them into immortal chapters.

Xia Qiyuan's immortality lay in the prosperous achievements he founded and his glorious name in the history books.

And the immortality of the Great Xia dynasty lay in this very moment, completely preserved within this *Book of Xia*, preserved in the memories of herself and her father.

Ephemeral was the three-hundred-year span of state fortune.

Eternal was this witnessed and recorded history.

Having thought this through, Jiang Yiyi's mind suddenly cleared. She felt a faint sign of loosening in her Nascent Soul cultivation bottleneck. The look she gave her father was filled with unprecedented filial admiration and reverence.

Her father, this immortal wanderer who seemingly merely strolled through the mortal realm, had actually been waging a gentle counterattack against this ruthless world in his own unique way.

"Father, I understand." Jiang Yiyi solemnly stowed *The Book of Xia* into her storage artifact. This was the most precious gift she had ever received.

"Mm." Jiang Xiuyuan smiled with gratification.

He turned to look at the perpetually silent Jiang Xiaobai and patted her head. "Xiaobai, are you still sad?"

Jiang Xiaobai raised her head, her eyes red, and nodded. "Xiaobai... Xiaobai misses Grandpa Xia Qiyuan. He even gave Xiaobai the most delicious osmanthus cakes from the palace."

Jiang Xiuyuan smiled. "Then let us remember him, and remember the taste of the osmanthus cakes. That way, he will live forever in our memories, won't he?"

Jiang Xiaobai nodded with a half-understanding expression, but the sadness on her face truly dissipated a great deal.

"Alright, it is time for us to go." Jiang Xiuyuan cast one final glance at the land behind them.