Chapter 730 — A Paintbrush Cannot Capture Its Spirit
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
"What, in the end, are the martial way and the martial soul?
" Shen Mu studied the descendants of the gods around him. These people did indeed possess a bearing and momentum unlike that of ordinary mortals -- a spirit that charged ever forward, breaking through every obstacle.
This differed from the fiery spirit of the age that burned in the divine-power practitioners of Jingping.
Those practitioners of Jingping were no less brave and keen, but their temperament and spirit were nimble and ever-changing, like boiling oil in which every bubble wore a different color; that was the spirit the age of reform had granted them -- a hundred flowers vying to bloom, a hundred schools contending to be heard. The essence of these descendants of the gods, however, was not the spirit of an age but the spirit of martial artists. This spirit was unlike that of a great knife master like the Butcher, whose genius was vast and unbridled; unlike that of a sword master like the Village Head, which was nimble yet inward; unlike that of a divine-arts master like Granny Zhu, which was whimsical and clever; it differed from the Deaf Elder's talent compressed within his paintings, differed from the Blind Elder's insight into all things carried with free-spirited ease, and differed from the Silent Craftsman's fire hidden deep in volcano and furnace.
They were like ascetic monks, like Old Huo before he had yet attained Buddhahood.
Shen Mu's eyes brightened. Yes, exactly like Old Huo! The Old Huo of Hidden Remnant Village.
That Old Huo was stern and unsmiling, gravely serious in all things; it was from him that Shen Mu had learned to be earnest and focused.
Though Old Huo's body was always held ramrod straight, he gave one the sense of a man walking beneath a heavy burden, as if he carried Mount Sumeru on his back, the mountain pressing down upon him.
That pressure had become his impetus.
Of course, pressure becomes impetus only when it has not crushed the bearer; if the pressure grows too great, it crushes the whole person.
There had been a period when Old Huo was crushed by it, and it was only after Shen Mu came to Hidden Remnant Village that he steadied himself against the pressure and pressed onward once more.
These young descendants of the gods in the heavens of Douniu Palace were, like Old Huo, martial artists bearing enormous pressure. But the weight they carried was not Mount Sumeru; it was the despair that the divine bridge of their race had been utterly severed, that the divine-bridge realm no longer existed at all, that they could never cultivate to the divine realm.
That despair could become an impetus, driving them forward to find a way through; it could likewise become the great mountain that crushed them, utterly destroying their spirit and will.
"They are martial artists!
" Shen Mu's gaze grew brighter and brighter, and a smile surfaced on his face.
"Once upon a time, before I had cultivated divine powers, I was such a martial artist too.
But after I opened the primal embryo's divine storehouse, I gradually forgot that spirit. " A martial artist was the name for one who had not yet set foot on the path of cultivation; a martial artist could only use lowly means such as fists, feet, and weapons.
Old Huo's state at Hidden Remnant Village was likewise that of a martial artist, the war-techniques school using the physical body alone to produce the effects of divine powers -- and with greater force, with greater ferocity!
At last, the crowd began to enter the Southern Heaven Gate.
Shen Mu stood where he was, unmoving.
He did not understand what the Martial Heavenly Master meant by letting them enter the Southern Heaven Gate. What did entering the way through martial arts have to do with entering a heavenly palace?