Chapter 1860 — The Immortal Veteran of the Battlefield

Shen Mu felt somewhat frightened and lost. He wanted to see whether the ideals he had upheld still remained. He saw gods used for the sake of mortals, saw that the way of the sages lay in the people's daily use—the ideals were still there. Yet what left him at a loss was that whether god or mortal, all took this as a matter of course.

They did not understand what this normalcy meant, nor did they know how much bloody battle was hidden within it, how many people had paid for it with their lives.

After all, a history of a million years was truly too brief compared to three and a half billion years of peace.

A million years of history, within three and a half billion years, might be no more than a single page in a thick history book; and on that one page there is no room for the seven Heavenly Venerables of Longhan, no room for Emperor Chi and Emperor Ming, no room for Heavenly Venerable Yue and Heavenly Venerable Ling who propped up the Shanghuang Era, and no room for those dozen or so Shanghuang who stood tall between heaven and earth and cried out that human life is greater than heaven.

The book has no room for the Carefree Land, no room for Kaihuang and his four Celestial Masters and four Heavenly Kings, no room for the Desolate Ruins, no room for the First Ancestor, the Human Emperor.

Shen Mu in that history book might be only a brief passage of text—to say nothing of the battles and wars he could not forget, the faces he could not forget.

The world's history books cannot hold these things.

Heroes buried by history are like droplets in the sea, grains in the desert, remembered by none.

Even if a hero out of history returned, no one would know him.

He walked a long while, passing through one divine city after another. Some ruins of battlefields had been destroyed in the passage of time, become divine cities, become tall towers and great buildings; others had gone utterly desolate, with no one to commemorate them, and only when he passed did anyone pay respects.

"Venerable Mu, is that you?"

While Shen Mu was paying his respects in Lanfeng Vale, he heard a voice weathered by the years. He looked toward the sound and saw a great black tiger. He was startled for a moment, then broke into a smile and went to meet the black tiger as it came pouncing.

That was the Black Tiger God, his senior fellow disciple.

The Black Tiger God came pouncing over, transformed into an old man with a face full of grizzled whiskers, and embraced him, weeping and laughing at once, then suddenly cried out at the top of his voice, "Master, your second disciple has come home!"

In the mountain woods of Lanfeng Vale there were a few thatched huts. The Woodcutter Sage pushed open the door of his hut and came out, still dressed as he had been before, never having changed with the changing of the world.

He too was like an antique, stubbornly wedded to the old ways, so ancient that the age had cast him aside.

Though his features were the same as in those years, like a ripe dandelion he had less and less hair.

Shen Mu strode forward and embraced the somewhat reserved Woodcutter Sage.

The woodcutter struggled once and could not break free, then roused the axe in the corner, long since covered in rust, intending to threaten him into letting go, but the Black Tiger God quietly stretched out a paw and pressed it down.

At last Shen Mu released him.

The two sat down at the stone table. The Woodcutter Sage's face was dark, while the Black Tiger God bustled back and forth, setting everything in order, brewing tea, stir-frying dishes, cooking rice, most diligent.

After a long while, the Woodcutter Sage said coldly, "So you're back?"

"Mm. I'm back," Shen Mu said with a smile.

"When do you leave?" The Woodcutter Sage picked up his teacup and said indifferently.

"Right away," Shen Mu said.

The Woodcutter Sage's hand trembled, and the water in the cup nearly spilled. "Just back, and already leaving?" he said, as if he did not care.

Shen Mu did not answer, but looked around. Seeing that the architecture here still kept the style of three and a half billion years ago, he shook his head and said, "Why does Teacher live here? Teacher has rendered immense merit to Jingping; would it not be better to go to the Heavenly Court? And there are old friends there, and much liveliness. Why such poverty?"

The Woodcutter Sage drank his tea and said mildly, "The supremely sage has no name. My realm is beyond your understanding."

Shen Mu laughed heartily. He could see that the Woodcutter Sage's cultivation realm was still stuck before the realm of the God-Slaying Platform, and that he had never once mounted that platform.

By rights, the Jingping Reforms had created no one knew how many kinds of acquired daos, and many people of surpassing talent had verified these acquired daos to the point of attaining the Dao.

Had the Woodcutter Sage wished to learn, he could perfectly well have completed his three hundred and sixty acquired daos and cultivated each great dao to its highest level.

But he had not learned.

"I do not wish to go to those places. Too bustling, too noisy."

The Woodcutter Sage glared at him. "My abilities are not great. What use is it to go there and be enshrined like an idol in a temple? I am a living man, not a wooden or clay idol. There, I would be less happy than I am here in seclusion."

Shen Mu reached out, wanting to stroke that head of his that had become like a wind-blown dandelion, but the Woodcutter Sage glared at him again, and he hastily drew back his hand.

"Of my three disciples, apart from the eldest, all have done better than I."

The Black Tiger God brought over a hat, a style of the new age. The Woodcutter Sage had been unwilling to wear a hat, but fearing that Shen Mu would stroke his bare head, he had no choice but to put it on first, and said, "The people of today have more ideas than we did in our day. Only they have no sense of peril. I am not comfortable among them; they always think me long-winded, say I fret over nothing, say I am forever worrying about dangers that do not exist. I cannot abide being among those young people."

Shen Mu listened with a smile as he rambled on about the faults of the young people of the new age, sadness in his heart: "Teacher's state of mind has perhaps truly grown old..."

The Woodcutter Sage spoke a great deal, and the food on the stone table gradually dwindled. They set down their bowls and chopsticks, and the Woodcutter Sage suddenly said, "How long will you be gone this time?"

Shen Mu said with a smile, "I do not know. Perhaps I shall have no sooner left than I return at once; or perhaps I shall not come back until this universe has become the void. It is also possible that this time I shall never return."

The Woodcutter Sage was silent.

Shen Mu roused his spirits and said with a smile, "Teacher's sense of peril will yet have its use. The Carefree Land is but a pool of dead water; sooner or later it will die away by degrees, and new dangers will appear. Then Teacher should come out of seclusion and give full play to his aspirations. Old soldiers do not die; in times of peace they merely put away their battle-axes and weapons in a corner to rust, and people merely choose to forget them for a time. But when war comes again, people will remember them once more, and they will grind their battle-axes and weapons sharp and walk onto the battlefield again."

He rose to his feet. "Teacher, you will yet have your use."

The Woodcutter Sage rose and looked at him. "When will you return?"

Shen Mu was silent a moment, then suddenly said, "Does Teacher still remember the Chaotic Space?"

The Woodcutter Sage thought it over. "That stretch of Chaotic Space in the Suspended Void Realm of those years?"

Shen Mu said, "One day in the future, the Chaotic Space will bloom like fireworks. That will be the sign of my return."