Chapter 1153 — Enlightenment in the Pot
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 3
"Maha! Maha!"
In Shen Mu's dream, one miniature Shen Mu after another wagged its head and swayed, speaking a tongue no one could understand. They had sorted through the manuscript of Heavenly Venerable Ling, each with insights of his own, and then they sat down together and fell to quarreling.
Not only quarreling — they fought, each flinging out whatever divine ability of Heavenly Venerable Ling he had grasped. A pack of little runts, hollering at the top of their lungs, all piling in to brawl.
Each of those miniature Shen Mus had his own strengths, yet not one of them could deploy the Heavenly Venerable Ling's divine abilities in full; at most, a broken fragment.
Even so, Shen Mu's dream world was battered into a shambles, dream after dream shattered.
When one dream broke, a new dream was born, and they remained trapped within Shen Mu's dreams all the same.
Of a sudden one miniature Shen Mu waved his hand, and time seemed to stand still — yet it was not time that stood still, but matter; every particle that made up matter had ceased its motion.
It seemed even Shen Mu's dream had frozen.
The many miniature Shen Mus could not stir, could not move so much as an eyeball, including the miniature Shen Mu who had cast the Stillness of Matter.
"A failure."
A vast voice came, and Shen Mu woke from the dream. The dream collapsed, and those miniature Shen Mus dispersed like wisps of smoke.
Shen Mu stretched, poured himself a cup of tea, and a host of insights from his dreaming welled up in his mind. Drinking his tea, he set those insights in order; when he set down the cup he yawned, and sank once more into deep sleep.
The dream appeared again, and once more a great many miniature Shen Mus poked their heads out, then jumped forth.
This time the miniature Shen Mus in the dream carried the knowledge Shen Mu had sorted out, and their understanding of the Immutability of Matter ran deeper and more abstruse than that of the Shen Mus in the dream before.
The many miniature Shen Mus sat together, grave of face, holding their discussion.
"Maha!"
"Guji!"
They argued with great heat, but in this debate upon the Dao their opinions diverged, and they split into many factions.
No faction could convince the others, so nothing remained but war; in the end the Guji faction routed the Maha faction and the Jigujigu faction in total victory, bound those pitiful little fellows fast, and knelt them in neat rows.
The leader of the Guji faction, a tiny Shen Mu, flung up his arm and shouted; below him a multitude answered, and the many miniature Shen Mus of the Guji faction joined forces to deploy the Immutability of Matter.
All within the dream world stood still — yet the little Shen Mus of the Guji faction could still move, and their faces split wide with delight as they showed off before the bound heretics.
Then of a sudden their divine ability seemed to undergo a strange change, and one miniature Shen Mu after another appeared to grow younger.
The little Shen Mus of the Guji faction were baffled. They were debating where the fault lay when they saw their whole company growing younger and younger, swiftly turned into a heap of bare-bottomed babes, chirping yi-ya yi-ya with the gravest of faces.
That vast voice sounded once more: "This time it failed again."
Before the voice had faded, the dream began to collapse. The bare-bottomed babes lifted their heads and wailed, and the dream dispersed like smoke.
The tea in the pot had lost its savor. Shen Mu brewed a fresh pot, and as he drank, set in order his gains and his insights.
He was the foremost man of creation divine abilities in the world today, yet even for him, comprehending the Heavenly Venerable Ling's divine ability was a road full of reversals.
Had he comprehended it step by step, in proper order, he would surely have erred as well, dying a thousand deaths like those little men in his dreams.