Chapter 1111 — Oh, So This Is the Mortal Realm
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 3
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.