Through parkland fog, the freezing winter sighs,
A backward stride unties the worldly ties.
He bows his frame to honor cosmic Fa,
The father’s anger turns to quiet cause.
While fellow seekers whisper dark deceit,
A single choice relinquishes the street.
In deep expanse, where worldly ties erased,
A silent light awakens human race.
Facing the Heavenly Fa
Following the night he locked the wooden door, Hoa Long entered a long season of experiencing the bitterness of separation within the crimson dust. The small house fell into a heavy silence.
The traps of the Old Forces were rarely overt. Instead, they used the bonds of flesh and blood to wear down the Dao-heart of the cultivator. His wife remained at a temporary lodging with her brother, while his infant daughter stayed under the care of her maternal grandmother.
Each week, Hoa Long pedaled through the crowded streets to visit his child, passing the watchful eyes of relatives and the whispers of neighbors. Yet what caused him the greatest pain was not the voice of the secular world, but his own reflection. The twin scars upon his cheeks remained cold, reminding him of the mistake he had made that night—using the human mind to impose his will upon his wife.
Knowing that he could no longer avoid this crucible, Hoa Long resolved to go to his wife's family home and face the root of their conflict.
Aligning the Mortal Axis Beneath the Father's Roof
Inside the formal living room, his father-in-law sat with a face darkened by anger. As an influential official, he had protected and indulged his daughter since childhood. That dependence had allowed her to threaten divorce whenever conflict arose, becoming another pressure upon Hoa Long.
The father-in-law struck the wooden table:
“Is this how you treat my daughter? What kind of cultivation gives you the coldness to bar the door and leave your wife and child outside at midnight? I have tolerated your ways many times, but this I will not accept!”
Before the anger, Hoa Long did not defend himself or argue over right and wrong. He stood straight, bowed to the elder, and accepted responsibility for his own mistake. Then he looked toward his wife, who was sitting behind them in tears:
“Whatever you choose to do, I will accept and forgive. But I will never abandon my wife.”
The words fell into the room, and everyone fell silent. The Great Fa did not permit a disciple to carelessly abandon a marriage or shirk his responsibilities within the mortal world.
Hoa Long's words were not the submission of an ordinary husband clinging to love. They came from a decision to shoulder his responsibilities with compassion and endurance.
His father-in-law stared at him. The anger in his face gradually faded. For the first time, he saw the integrity and resolve of the young man standing before him. The tension that had divided them began to loosen.
Days later, his wife asked to visit his mother. Hoa Long welcomed her and their child back into their old home. The separation ended almost as quietly as it had begun.
The Meeting and the Dissolution of Prejudice
As the domestic turmoil subsided, Hoa Long returned to the suburban park one foggy morning. The trees stood around the clearing, their leaves moving gently in the wind. The number of practitioners had fallen, but enough remained to preserve the peaceful atmosphere of the practice ground.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Hoa Long no longer sat at the center to direct the group. He stood at the edge of the grass, saying little. He continued to ignore the summons from the precinct. In his heart, he knew he was an honorable man striving to do good. He had broken neither secular law nor his own conscience.
Yet doubts had begun to spread among some practitioners. They wondered why Hoa Long continued receiving summonses but chose not to respond. Some interpreted his domestic troubles and quiet manner as signs that he was exhausted or had compromised with ordinary people.
Facing their suspicion, Hoa Long simply smiled. If he felt the need to prove his innocence before others, he realized, then the attachment to Name had not yet been relinquished. So he let it go. He held to a simple conviction and remained where he was.
One morning, a woman approached him from the edge of the clearing. She wore ordinary clothes, but the unease in her eyes revealed that she had come because of her duties. She kept enough distance not to attract attention:
“I am… responsible for security in this area. Everyone should not gather here and create disorder.”
Her voice was soft. There was no threat in it, only the pressure of an instruction passed down from above. Hoa Long looked at her without hostility and smiled:
“It takes a great fated connection for us to meet here. We should not look at each other with hostility, should we?”
The woman paused. She had clearly expected a different response from a man regarded as a “complicated anomaly.” Her expression softened.
They sat on a nearby stone bench and spoke of ordinary things—family, work, and what it meant to be a good person. No grand doctrine was discussed. Yet as they talked, the woman's guarded expression gradually eased.
When they finally stood, Hoa Long took a thin, nameless manuscript from his vest. He held it for a moment before offering it to her. The woman did not take it immediately. She looked around, checking whether anyone was watching, then quietly placed the manuscript inside her pocket.
She said nothing. Only a slight nod passed between them. But when she walked away, the hostility in her eyes was gone.
The Decision to Depart — A Warning Against Dependence
After the woman left, a senior fellow practitioner sat beside Hoa Long:
“That book… many eyes are watching it now. We should not distribute manuscripts or texts at this time. It could bring trouble upon ourselves and the group.”
Hoa Long nodded gently. He did not argue, nor did he immediately agree. Instead, another thought emerged within him:
❖ The group had gradually become attached to the safety of the park.
❖ Some practitioners had also begun relying upon his presence and the energy field around him.
Had the practice ground, which was meant to be a place of cultivation, slowly become something resembling an ordinary organization? The thought remained with him. Perhaps the group's role at this place had already been fulfilled.
That evening, during collective Fa-study beneath the modest roof, Hoa Long spoke slowly:
“Perhaps, from tomorrow onward, I will no longer return to the park to perform the exercises.”
Silence filled the room. One practitioner looked at him in disbelief:
“If you are not there, the energy field may change completely. Whom will everyone rely upon?”
Another laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood:
“If Hoa Long no longer steps onto the park grass, then he is no longer the scarred Hoa Long we know.”
The joke fell into silence. Hoa Long looked down at the True Scripture in his hands. Then he raised his eyes:
“Every soul has its own position and mission before the Great Fa. Remaining is not always an act of courage, and departing is not necessarily an act of fear. I must walk the path that has been placed before me.”
The Path of No Farewells
On his final morning at the park, everything continued as usual. Mist moved across the clearing. The wind passed through the trees. The practitioners performed the slow, fluid exercises beneath the open sky.
No one knew that this would be Hoa Long's final morning among them. He remained a little longer than usual, looking at the companions who had endured the trials alongside him. Yet he did not seek attention or sympathy.
As he rolled up his practice mat, a newcomer passed by:
“Will you still come back tomorrow, Long?”
Hoa Long did not answer at once. He looked at the man for a moment, then gave a slight nod—it was a farewell the other man did not yet understand.
Hoa Long turned and walked away. No one followed him. No farewell was spoken. Yet his departure marked the beginning of another stage of his path.
The following morning, ordinary people still arrived at the suburban park. The fog still covered the trees. Only the figure with the twin scars was absent.
Hoa Long was now walking a different path—through narrow alleys and forgotten corners of daily life. There, he began speaking with strangers and clarifying the facts in the simplest way he could.
Without the protection of the collective, without relying upon the atmosphere of the practice ground, he stood alone within the crimson dust. A single thought arose within him:
It is not because that clearing is no longer fated. It is because the path ahead requires him to enter the human world alone—to reach those hidden within ignorance and awaken the conscience within their hearts.
And so he walked on.
Canto 64 — The Path of No Farewells
Through parkland fog, the freezing winter sighs,
A backward stride unties the worldly ties.
He bows his frame to honor cosmic Fa,
The father’s anger turns to quiet cause.
While fellow seekers whisper dark deceit,
A single choice relinquishes the street.
In deep expanse, where worldly ties erased,
A silent light awakens human race.