Chapter 1111 — Oh, So This Is the Mortal Realm

Shen Mu once more wore the face of Mu Qing, striding along the Heavenly River with ever-quickening steps.

The Longhan Era, at the very height of its splendor, had already begun its long road downhill.

Looking down, he saw that the Primal World below teemed with countless divine kingdoms, where mighty demigods had toppled the statues of the ancient gods.

Those colossal statues had been symbols of the ancient gods' authority and might: towering and awe-inspiring, some hewn directly from an entire sacred mountain, others wrought from divine gold and divine iron in extravagance beyond all measure. In years gone by, the common folk and the myriad races would come to worship and offer sacrifice, presenting their jewels and even their own sons and daughters to the ancient gods, who sat on high and held all power, praying for favorable winds and rains, praying that heaven would send down no calamity.

But this time the ancient gods had gone far away and departed the Celestial Court; power in the Celestial Court was left hollow, the demigods seized the moment to rise and usurp it, and so the ancient gods became old gods. Of course their statues had to be thrown down, their altars smashed.

Yet Shen Mu also saw that after the mighty demigods had destroyed the old gods' statues and altars, they enslaved the common folk and the myriad races to toil in bitter labor, and raised new altars on the very same ground. Upon the new altars, statues of the mighty demigods were erected.

Without realizing it, Shen Mu had stepped down from the Heavenly River, drawing ever nearer to the mortal world; wherever he looked, old gods were being cast down and new gods raised, and the common folk and the myriad races were still enslaved, still living lives worse than death. The newly risen deities who held power were jubilant, celebrating their victory and their ascent, feasting on the beauties and delicacies offered by the common people while mountains of every kind of treasure piled up around them.

They drank their fill amid pools of wine and forests of meat, laughing aloud, wild with delight.

And beneath their towering bodies, ordinary mortals by the hundreds, by the thousands, by the tens of thousands lay prostrate, trembling in fear, heads bowed deep, knocking their foreheads against the ground like pestles pounding garlic. "Ah, this is the mortal world.

" Only then did Shen Mu wake to himself: he had been walking along the Heavenly River all this while, too high above, seeing too far, and had failed to see the living beings of the Primal World. Ah, this is the mortal world.

He had only just realized this truth — yes, this was the mortal world, and the people had not cast out the gods in their hearts, nor the gods in their temples, and least of all the new gods and old gods enthroned on high.

Power had been let out of its cage, and it would be no easy thing to cage it again; servility had been summoned forth, and it would be no easy thing for backs and knees to straighten once more. Why, when the Heavenly Emperor had already been wiped away and the rule of the ancient gods overthrown, had the people's lives not changed in the least, still as numb as before?

Why, when the old gods had already left this world, should a new host of gods have been born?

Should not all of this have changed?

Was this Longhan Revolution truly of no concern to mortals?

"Yes," he said to himself, "this Longhan Revolution is still far from success. All it has cast off is the Heavenly Emperor and the ancient gods; it has only stripped away the old ruling class and put a new set of rulers in their place.

The Longhan Revolution is fake — a hollow sham.

" He was somewhat lost, and murmured: "Venerable Yun, do you see this?

Do not dwell too high and too far away.

Too high and too far, and you will not see the suffering of all beings; too high and too far, and you will lose the impetus to press forward; too high and too far, and you will forget your own true heart and original intent.

" He walked among the towering sacred mountains of the Primal World, watching the gods celebrating with fervor, watching all beings suffer exactly as before.

From Longhan to Chiming, from Shanghuang to Kaihuang, and on to Jingping, generation after generation of people of vision and resolve had striven — not for personal power or position, not for personal desire or wealth, but for the simplest of convictions: to cast out the gods in the heart, and to cast out the gods in the temple.

Night fell, and the curtain of darkness was drawn across the Primal World. His breast surged with emotion; he pressed on through the night with a lantern, a strange feeling rising and falling in his heart like the waters of the Heavenly River.

He was like a wayfarer carrying a lamp into the primeval darkness of history, searching in the gloom for the footprints left by the sages of old, for their spirit like candle flames in the dark. That was a spirit branded into the very blood of ordinary people — simple and plain, yet so stirring that to touch it was to feel tears spring to the eyes and the blood run hot.

Their simple, plain spirit was stamped deep upon the dark sky of history; when future wayfarers carried their lanterns into that darkness, the light would cut through the black, and their spirit would blaze like a host of stars, inspiring all who came after.

Shen Mu did not stop. From the darkness came the long, drawn-out roars of ancient gods and demons, and in the distance the sacred mountains crouched like enormous beasts in the night.

In the darkness, a demigod deity caught sight of him and cried out: "Venerable Mu——" Shen Mu started; only then did he remember that he still wore the face of Mu Qing.

He slipped away from the demigods who sought to hunt him down, changing his form until he looked like one of them.

He walked from night into dawn, and from day into night, gradually drawing near to the lands of the human race. One morning he arrived at the human lands of the Longhan Era; sunlight spilled down upon his travel-worn face.

He smiled at the sight of people working in the fields, at a village not far off, and at adepts teaching children how to open their divine storehouses and become martial artists.

In the distance there were human cities as well, where industrious merchant caravans were already setting out for the cities of other later-born races nearby to trade their wares.

All was tranquil here; wisps of cooking smoke curled up from the village, and the people lived and worked in peace and contentment.

Shen Mu put away his lantern and walked forward into the rising sun, a smile upon his face.

Suddenly the sky convulsed violently, and the people raised their heads in panic, staring blankly at the heavens.

Shen Mu looked up and saw the tilting Heavenly River — like an incomparably vast white python hanging across the sky — shuddering violently as it plunged down upon the Primal World!

"The course of the Heavenly River has changed.

.

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" Shen Mu's mind went blank. The Heavenly River had once flowed out from Xuandu, coursed through the Four Extreme Heavens, then from the Eastern Extreme Heaven into the Primal World; after passing the Celestial Court, it entered the skies of the Primal World.

Many branches of the great river pierced through the many heavens of the Primal World, then flowed out from those heavens and gathered together once more.

This great river that threaded the entire cosmos drifted across the sky of the Primal World, cut into the Nether Capital to become the Nether River, and poured at last into the abyss of Guixu.

But now the Celestial Court had risen, and the course of the Heavenly River was changed!

The Heavenly River was falling out of the sky, about to crash down upon the earth — and the Heavenly River that flowed upon the earth would be the Surging River of later ages!