I changed the world.

Page 354

Although the deities depicted on this huge mural appear to be painted in a traditional Chinese painting style, their faces are so lifelike that he can recognize them at a glance.

Therefore, Zhang Jing immediately understood what the mural depicted. The painting, from top to bottom, clearly showed the hierarchy of deities, depicting a pantheon of gods. From the Three Pure Ones at the top to the Earth God at the bottom, the gods Zhang Jing was about to bestow titles upon were arranged in a tiered manner.

This subconsciously reminded Zhang Jing of a famous Taoist painting from his previous life called "The True Spirit's Position and Karma Chart".

Zhang Jing pondered for a while, then turned his gaze to the north side of the steps inside the hall, where layers of curtains covered the area, just like an ancient Eastern palace. He suddenly had a very special feeling that behind those curtains was something extremely important to him!

So he walked toward the curtain, reached out and lifted it. His eyes widened in surprise. Behind the curtain was a throne carved with dragons. What surprised him was not the throne itself, but the person sitting on it at that moment!

This person was dressed in a wide purple robe with intricate and gorgeous patterns, wearing a jade crown, with eyes as bright as stars. He sat on a high throne, just like a king, looking down at the scene in the hall through the curtain.

At this moment, Zhang Jing lifted the curtain and met the eyes of the person sitting on the throne. He was astonished to find that the person sitting on the throne was none other than himself!

Volume Two: The Truth Hidden Behind History Books: Chapter 709 Only Today Do I Realize Who I Am

The feeling was extremely strange, as if he were seeing himself in a mirror. In the instant their eyes met, looking at the familiar face on the throne, before Zhang Jing could react further, he suddenly found himself sitting on the throne!

At the same moment, Zhang Jing, who was dreaming in his bedroom, suddenly opened his eyes. His gaze seemed to pierce through layers of void, looking at himself on the throne in some unknown dimension.

In the darkness, their eyes met.

Zhang Jing, who was in the bedroom, suddenly spoke:

"It came without a trace and went without a trace; its departure was the same as its arrival."

Why bother asking about the affairs of this fleeting life? This fleeting life itself exists only in a dream.

Then he sighed:

"Oh it's you!"

Zhang Jing, seated on the throne, also sighed:

“It’s me!”

A profound realization dawned on Zhang Jing's mind, along with a wealth of information that was being deconstructed in his head.

Zhang Jing already knew that this world was multifaceted, not simply a world governed by physical laws as many believed. At the bottom of this world lay a layer known as the "Abyss Surface," a more fundamental and essential realm than the void.

This level is also the source of the deepest projections of civilization and even the spiritual level of living beings.

To interpret it inappropriately, this is more like a concept of the world's underlying consciousness. Within the same civilization, the death and birth of life, at the spiritual level, are merely the appearance and demise of projections.

From a certain perspective, this may be the root of the concept of reincarnation. When a creature in this world dies, the imprint of this life disappears, and in a sense, even the conceptual self is lost. When the next projection occurs, what remains is merely an individual re-projected from the surface of the abyss. In this sense, life does not end, but only continues to cycle.

But at the same time, the "I" of this life truly perishes, and the "I" of the next life will be completely unrelated to this one. People are caught in this cycle, rising and falling, unable to escape.

This is what Buddhism calls the "boundless sea of ​​suffering," or the "circulation and recurrence" in the Xuanmen (Taoist) school.

From this perspective, Zhang Jing became increasingly certain that the Xuanmen and Futu sects of this world were indeed descendants of those ancient sects.

Only true gods exist directly on the surface of the abyss itself, and therefore, even if they perish in a physical sense, they can still return in concept under the right conditions.

At this moment, what Zhang Jing saw was his true nature within the abyss!

In the novel *Water Margin*, Lu Zhishen left a verse before his death at the Liuhe Temple in Hangzhou, which aptly expresses Zhang Jing's state of mind at that time:

"He never cultivated good deeds in his life, but only loved killing and arson."

Suddenly the golden rope snapped, and the jade lock was torn apart.

Ah! The tide is rising on the Qiantang River; only today do I realize who I truly am.

The reason for all of this can be traced back to the Heavenly Punishment Sword in Zhang Jing's hand!

This sword was originally forged from the body of an ancient evil god. With the help of a series of coincidences caused by the wish book, and the traces left by the original owner of the sword, Zhang Jing, despite experiencing danger, was finally able to truly control this divine weapon.

It was under this constant erosion that the authority of the ancient god named Leonis eventually crumbled. In fact, if it weren't for Zhang Jing's existence, even if the god had fallen to this point, he would still have had the opportunity to spend a long time waiting to return from the concept once again.

However, this time Zhang Jing was different. Whether it was due to luck or not, Zhang Jing issued an imperial edict. Although the new system he built was still in its infancy, the belief in the land of Zhaoyang Town as the number one land temple in the world was still not to be underestimated, and it had already been able to construct the first "edict".

Therefore, Leonis's already broken authority on the surface of the abyss was truly replaced, and his already eroded essence also truly perished.

With the help of the imperial decree, Zhang Jing's control over the divine weapon, the Heavenly Punishment Sword, deepened, and a powerful bond, similar to an external avatar, was formed between the two.

This relationship is two-way. When the Heavenly Punishment Sword completely broke free from the shackles of the old gods, Zhang Jing, as the controller and the one who bestowed the title, was also affected. To some extent, he even realized his true nature at the Abyss level ahead of time.

For him, although he was still a third-tier cultivator at this moment, he had truly stepped into the realm of gods with one foot in the end, becoming an extremely special existence.

At this moment, fleeting fragments were flashing through Zhang Jing's mind...

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On a classically styled steamship, several young men dressed as scholars, straightening their clothes, knelt and kowtowed towards the land dock not far away, led by an official.

One of the scholars, whose face vaguely resembled Zhang Jing by seven or eight points, was now in tears, and said resolutely:

"On this journey to the West, one should deeply understand the strategy for China's self-strengthening; there is no other way. Bearing the future of the nation on one's shoulders, one should acquire all the science of the West. Embarking on a long journey of 70,000 li, bidding farewell to one's motherland and parents, one should be resolute and without regret."

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In a dark, cramped room in the style of the Western Continent, the scholar was writing furiously, with a small candle burning beside him.

He was now dressed in 19th-century Western attire, his brow furrowed, his eyes squinting as if he couldn't see clearly, and thick stacks of books piled up beside him.

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In a dimly lit bedroom, the scholar lay pale and weak on the bed, seemingly nearing the end of his life. Beside him sat another young man with a sorrowful expression.

"Fengzhi, don't be discouraged. Just rest well, and you'll definitely get better..."

“Kangding…don’t try to comfort me anymore…I know my own situation…I…I’m not going to make it…It’s just a pity…I can’t serve the country…I can’t fulfill my filial duty to my parents…It’s a great regret…a great regret…”

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In front of a huge round earthen building, a group of young people dressed in hemp clothes were gathering. They carried large and small bags on their backs, and many of them were holding bows, arrows, knives and guns. Around them, a large number of women, children and the elderly were seeing them off.

"The troops gathered in the prefectural city are also to drive out the Tartars! To protect our homeland! You elders may have heard that across the river, the Tartars massacred two major cities, 'leave their hair, but not their heads!' In recent days, corpses have been constantly floating down the river; everyone has witnessed it. It is said that now, there is no one left alive in Guangling and Qingqiu cities..." An official wearing a turban was proclaiming this to the surrounding crowd. Some of the people around him showed indignation, while others showed fear...

Volume Two: The Truth Hidden Behind History Books: Chapter 710 Past Lives

On the other side, many young and middle-aged people were gathering in a line. Among them, a young man wearing a blue turban, whose face vaguely resembled Zhang Jing, was bowing to say goodbye to another man who was older than him and a woman.

“Brother, I am leaving now. Mother is bedridden, so I entrust her to you and sister-in-law.”

"Brother Yun, swords and spears have no eyes on the battlefield, be very careful, don't act rashly..." The older man said with a reluctant expression, "Your sister-in-law prepared two extra sets of clothes for you, and remember to change your insoles if they get wet..."

The brothers bid each other a reluctant farewell. As the rest of the group set off, the young man, carrying his pack, gave a final, deep bow, then jogged a few steps and joined the ranks…

The older man and the woman beside him followed behind the group for a long time, until the group disappeared at the end of the mountain path...

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"what!"

On the city wall, a soldier in tattered armor let out a scream, hot blood gushing from the blade. In the instant he fell, his hand grasped the blade embedded in his shoulder. The barbarian warrior with a braided hairstyle struggled to pull his sword out, lifting the young soldier's body to his feet. The soldier swayed and struggled, then suddenly leaped up, and amidst the barbarian's savage laughter, tumbled off the wall with his opponent in his arms.

"Anzi!"

Beside him, a young man who looked similar to Zhang Jing let out a mournful cry. Behind him was a flag representing a junior officer, and he was leading the soldiers around him in battle.

In a moment of distraction, the alien warrior opposite him seized the opportunity, his scimitar spun halfway and aimed straight for his neck.

"when!"

A clang of metal clashing rang out as the young man parried a fatal blow with his longsword. Before his opponent could withdraw his blade, he raised his knee and slammed it into the opponent's groin. The alien warrior screamed and staggered back half a step. The young man landed, twisting his blade, and slashed through his opponent's gaping mouth.

"Pfft!" Half a head flew into the air, red and white spraying out, splattering all over the young man's face. The young man didn't bother to wipe the filth off his face, roaring as he continued forward.

"Stab them down!"

"Give it your all, let the Tartars see the men of our Great Zhao!" he shouted. Under his command, the surrounding soldiers gathered around and launched a group attack on the foreign warriors who had climbed the city wall.

Black crossbow bolts, like venomous snakes, darted about. A stray arrow would tear a bloody gash in your skin.

Most of these arrows were coated with poison or stained with gold juice, but both sides ignored the existence of the arrows and stood upright, using every conceivable method to take the other's life.

Moments later, the foreign warriors on the city wall were all killed.

"They've retreated!!! Lin Hu has retreated!!! The Tartars have retreated!!!"

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Amidst torrential rain, a densely packed army was engaged in a chaotic battle along the riverbank.

"Woo-woo-woo!" The sound of the horn mixed with the wind was as mournful as the wailing of ghosts.

"Commander, we've been tricked! We're surrounded! We're surrounded!" In the chaotic army formation, a smudged captain grabbed the centurion who was shouting in the heat of battle and cried out. The centurion had a stubble beard, but it was still possible to tell that he was the young man who looked similar to Zhang Jing.

In the nearby army formation, a towering banner bearing the inscription "Drive out the Tartars to the north, restore the old capital" slowly tilted before crashing down, eliciting gasps of alarm...

"Don't talk nonsense! We haven't been defeated yet! We haven't been defeated yet!!" the centurion roared, his eyes bloodshot.

The captain seemed about to say something when suddenly, a stray arrow flew in and pierced his throat...

At the same time, shouts of alarm came from the front, followed by the breaking of the enemy lines and soldiers being sent flying high into the air...

The centurion turned his head to look and saw a line of white-armored knights, wielding long swords and iron hammers, charging silently yet surging toward him like a raging tide!

The centurion's eyes widened in shock. He was stunned for a moment, then suddenly spat to the side.

Then, he picked up a spear from the ground, glanced at the chaotic battle lines around him, and laughed bitterly, "We're not going to survive...we're not going to survive..."