Chapter 1506 The Man Who Called Himself Tathagata
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 3
"Maha!"
Within Shen Mu's dream layered upon dream, a great many tiny Shen Mus gathered together. Some wore grave expressions, some exuded wild auras; some were clad in short jackets and shorts of beast hide, bearded and unkempt as savages; some carried the air of gentle scholars; some went barefoot with cleavers on their shoulders, like pig-butchers; and some bore themselves with the manner of masters.
Then one Shen Mu after another in the guise of a monk came running over, like Buddhas who had attained the Way, their whole bodies blazing with Buddha-light.
These tiny figures of the dreams gathered in one place, in the dream that ringed Shen Mu's primal spirit.
Shen Mu's primal spirit was vast; his body broke through one dream after another, like a Mount Sumeru running through countless worlds.
The many diminutive Shen Mus each aired his views, wagging his tongue and racking his brains, analyzing the principles of the Mira Palace Primordial Sage's divine arts, and how they might avoid having their thoughts assimilated by the Mira Palace Primordial Sage.
The first few days passed without incident. On the third day, one tiny figure was speaking with impassioned fervor of how he would break the Primordial Sage's arts, and in the full heat of it, the maha maha in his mouth suddenly changed.
"What Heaven has conferred is called the nature; to follow the nature is called the Way; to cultivate the Way is called instruction..."
He at once became a freak among the tiny figures, and the many diminutive Shen Mus rushed him in a body and beat him to death on the spot.
Yet before long, more tiny Shen Mus were assimilated and turned into sutra-chanters; even as they were beaten and killed, new tiny Shen Mus kept falling.
"Maha!"
"Guji!"
In the dream, countless tiny Shen Mus fell into utter chaos. Then a Buddha Shen Mu rose to his feet and formed the Unmoving Mudra, and a single resonant boom of a bell rang out, filling the whole place, subduing the panicked little men and steadying their minds.
From beneath the Buddha Shen Mu's feet a golden spring welled up, and from the spring rose a lotus that bore him aloft, holy and solemn, and countless tiny Shen Mus turned their eyes to him.
"Ma! Ha!"
The Buddha Shen Mu formed seals and slowly sat down, chanting sutras that to outsiders sounded wholly unintelligible; yet the flustered tiny Shen Mus seemed able to understand them, and one and all they sat down on the ground and joined the Buddha Shen Mu in chanting.
Within Shen Mu's layered dreams there now appeared a sight of the utmost grandeur: Shen Mus by the tens of thousands, by the millions, a vast black swarming mass, seated upon a boundless plain like a forest of monks, every one of them chanting the same sutra in one voice, the sound growing louder and louder, more and more unified!
That sound was like a mighty torrent of conviction, sweeping over all the dreams—vast and far-carrying; though unintelligible, it shook the heart to its very core!
His dreams were like so many Buddha-lands, so many Buddha-realms; Buddha-light spread out from every dream, radiance without bound, the Buddha's voice rolling on, calming mind and soul.
Granny Zhu, the Silent Artisan, the Blind Old Man and the rest could not help but breathe a sigh of relief at the sight, and the Lame Old Man, after these days of nursing, was much better than before, and at this too he set his heart at ease.
Granny Zhu laid down the divine bow and said in a low voice, "The Buddhism of the Great Thunderclap Temple is a learning of the mind—not faith, but conviction, a tempering of the soul. Perhaps it can hold off that Mira Palace Primordial Sage."
The Lame Old Man's face was still somewhat sallow. "Shen'er has raised his conviction and made his mind like vajra, subduing the monkey of his mind. There should be no one left in the world who can disturb his spirit now."