The Return Journey of Dust Particles

There was a blue line on Shi Jingwei's wrist. People in Black Rock Village said it was a birthmark, but only his father knew that it was the "Guiyi mark" - twelve life marks merged into one, a forbidden physique that did not appear for three thousand years. The spring festival cracks the stone, and the dark red reaches the sky. That night his father handed him a dagger and told him to go into the mountain and head north without looking back. He was thirteen years old that year. Over the next hundred years, the path of spiritual practice fell like a meteor - my childhood friend Xu Shuyan was killed just over ten years after setting foot on this path. In the late stage of enlightenment, he was seriously injured and dying. He was rescued by a 20-year-old boy chopping firewood. He spent 40 years recovering from his injuries in a mortal's hut, watching the boy marry, have children, and hold grandchildren in his arms until he died with gray hair and eyes closed. After the young man died, Jing Weiku sat in front of the grave for a night and broke through the realm of meridians. He returns to his hometown. The dry river is still there, the old locust tree is still there, and all the parents and old friends have been buried. He set up a monument in front of the grave and recorded each name, then turned and continued north. The road is ruthless. It's not that cultivation makes one ruthless, it's that one has lived for too long and the path has long been covered by weeds. He is a speck of dust, thousands of miles away, no one remembers him.