Chapter 510 — Teacher of Sages (Auspicious Year of the Dog!)
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 5
In Wenyuan Hall, Shen Mu looked around. The Young Grandmaster's Wenyuan Hall struck him as somewhat shabbier than the great halls of the other Cult Masters, no doubt because the Grandmaster had never been a Cult Master and so stood a cut below them in rank. In Shen Mu's eyes, however, it was precisely because the Young Grandmaster had never been Cult Master or Sage Teacher of the Dark Demon Sect that he could lay down that burden and accomplish what even the Cult Masters had never accomplished.
The Young Grandmaster had been half teacher and half friend to the Jingping Imperial Teacher; when the Imperial Teacher came to visit, he willingly let him read the Great Nurturing Dark Demon Sutra, told him the general tenets of the Way of the Sages of the Heavenly Sage Sect, and afterward wrote letters in his own hand recommending him to the Daoist Gate and the Great Thunderclap Temple. The Jingping Imperial Teacher owed his towering achievements to him in no small measure; the Imperial Teacher's later reform and transformation likewise owed him a great deal, and even the founding of the Grand Academy was deeply bound up with the Young Grandmaster—he had been the Grand Academy's first Grand Chancellor, and whenever the Imperial Teacher carried out reform, he would often come and ask the Grandmaster's advice.
The state of Jingping had three giants of the reform party: the Imperial Teacher and the Emperor were the two giants in the open, while the Young Grandmaster was the third giant hidden behind them. Judged by achievement alone, throughout the whole history of the Holy Sect, at most two or three of the successive Cult Masters could match what the Young Grandmaster had done. And yet, because he had never been a Cult Master, Fengdu never gave him a Cult Master's treatment—and Shen Mu felt the injustice keenly on his behalf.
"Ah, you still cannot change that soaring, swaggering temper of yours.
" The Young Grandmaster led him into the hall, while the Dragon-Qilin, all great bones and hard scales, rubbed itself against him around and around until his robes were worn through and his thighs chafed red. Pretending not to notice, he said to Shen Mu, "What are we to do now?
You have nearly fought your way through every successive Cult Master!
Do you take them for easy men? They are the bullies and tyrants of Fengdu!
When you die of old age, how will you find a footing in Fengdu. .
.
" "Grandmaster.
. .
" Shen Mu abruptly threw his arms around him, his voice trembling, and for a long while would not let go. "I missed you. " The great skeleton wanted to wipe his eyes, but he had no tears to wipe, and sobbed, "I did not know you had lain in wait at the Desolate Ruins to block the gods of High Heaven.
Only later did I hear it from Yunxiang; the Dharma-Protecting Elder brought back your ashes, and I could not arrive in time to see you one last time.
I have come to see you now!
I kept it hidden from Fat Dragon all along, not daring to tell him—but I cannot hide it any longer. " The Young Grandmaster was taken aback, then patted his back and said with deep feeling, "I have merely changed the way I live, that is all. Look—I have flesh and blood now. In my eyes, it is you who are dead.
Should I, too, burst into tears? Enough, enough—just now Cult Master Shen was thundering abuse at the ancestors and beating them black and blue; why put on the tender postures of a little child now. . . Enough, Dragon-Qilin!
You have rubbed my thigh bloody! Have you not had enough?
" The Dragon-Qilin tried to stretch out its tongue to lick the wound, and only then remembered it had no tongue; so, reluctant to part, it moved a little away from him. After a moment it could not help coming back for another rub. The Young Grandmaster was left utterly speechless.