newbobooks Chapter 374
Chapter 374
"If one can copy the skin to nine out of ten degrees, and imitate the habits perfectly - can it be considered as cultivating the 'true body'?" If one can carve the memories of his life into his bones and blood, can he live as a second perfect soul?
It is not a human being, but its status among its peers is not low. It no longer has any pressure in life, but its life is like an extinguished flame, and it can no longer burn for a long time.
She dissects her own flesh and blood expertly but clumsily, wanting to show it to her "prey", wholeheartedly, with enjoyment and flirtation, remembering every inch of her target, her blood vessels, her heartbeat and bones... These secrets, which originally belonged to the memories of both parties, have now become a secret shared by both of them.
Numbness followed its most primitive hunting instinct. The first time it felt curious and wanted to go off the track was when it saw Lu Wensheng. He was so different, but it couldn't tell how.
So, out of instinct and subconscious reaction, he wanted to understand Lu Wensheng and felt that he should become him.
"My friend, do you know that there are shells in the East China Sea? The tides have washed away their shells for thousands of years, and the world only sees the perfect pearly luster. But wrapped in the layers of threads are old wounds caused by sand piercing flesh and blood - obsession is like a pearl, the more it is polished and transparent, the more it makes people forget that it was just a grain of dust that hurt their true heart in the beginning."
The copper bells on the eaves suddenly rang, mixed with the Taoist's slow voice: "When I was young, I traveled with my master and saw celestial beings painted on the wall. The most skilled craftsmen could grind the gold foil thinner than the morning mist, but the Bodhisattva on the wall had to add three rough cinnabar to the tails of his drooping eyes. Later I understood that what ascended to heaven was never the perfect appearance, but the clumsy brushstrokes that mortals could not change."
“It is like the moon in a cup. Even if you drink up all the water, it still hangs in the same place as before. But if you smash this porcelain, the silver frost on the ground suddenly comes alive with a crisp sound and pours all over the ground. In fact, the moonlight has never been trapped. Instead, we hold it in our hands as if it were perfect.”
Taoist Qingxuan's words were like a wake-up call that struck directly at the soul.
"Layman, if you insist on crushing your own shadow to chase the light of another sky, you will lose the most precious thing - when human skin wraps up obsession, does the obsession become the person, or does the person eventually become the obsession?"
Taoist Qingxuan’s meaning is very simple.
On the long journey home, you will have your own scenery and he will have his own long journey.
It is easy to depict 90% of the bone structure, but it is difficult to depict the wind blowing up the hair ends.
I remember the texture of people's bones more clearly than my own heartbeat, but I cannot understand the heat that melts between the lines on people's palms when they throw wine at desolate graves on a snowy night.
I always thought that imitating the seven emotions would allow me to grow a spiritual platform, but when I opened my chest and stuffed it in, all I could find was a clay model made from midnight rain and morning frost.
What is the imitator's deepest fear? It is to discover that the heart beating in the chest of the prey is actually a second heart that he cannot cut open.
Even though morning mist and night dew look similar, one buries the rising sun, while the other buries the moonlight.
One hunts flesh and blood specimens, the other cuts out the heart of a living creature to prove his doctrine.
They are always different...
After finishing the conversation, Taoist Qingxuan watched the scholar leave and breathed a sigh of relief: the following questions made his scalp tingle, they were too torturous.
I feel like I am not thinking like a human.
Like a fake person.
However, it is worthy of him to save confused and hesitant young people. It’s so simple!
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The scholar walked to the corner, took out a bronze mirror, and his appearance gradually changed.
The face reflected in the bronze mirror was clearly the one he had sketched tens of millions of times, but when he thought of the light that always floated in Lu Wensheng's eyes, he touched his warm eyelids and felt that it was different.
As the cold dew soaked the long bluestone street, he sat in a teahouse in the south of the city and opened the gilded album that he had previously used to fool mortals.
The bamboo paper was soaked with freshly ground pine soot ink. His fingertips slid across the three words "Lu Wen Sheng". He felt the ink seemed to be slightly hot. He suddenly thought of Taoist Qingxuan's porcelain cup - was the hesitation that the tip of his pen hovered at this moment the moonlight that could not be held?
"Sir, do you want to hear the story of the past?" The old man selling tea placed the copper kettle on the red clay stove, and the hot steam rising from the spout was filled with old memories.
"Well, I have received the same favor and want to record their words and deeds."
Whenever he expressed this, those who had experienced it always showed great interest and excitement. This time was no surprise, and the old stories were told in detail.
"Those cultivators were the best I've ever seen. They helped a lot. The leader, wearing black clothes and a red belt, looked like a sword, but he was full of righteousness. Those demon cultivators took into account the favorable conditions, but they didn't expect the help of the immortal master. Master Pang Ling was willing to sacrifice himself - the sky was filled with golden light, protecting the people. We all heard the resounding sound at that time."
The phantom's eyelashes trembled slightly, and the tip of the brush had already outlined the outline, but the old man's next words made the tip of the brush pause in mid-air, and the meticulous small portrait on the album suddenly looked thin.
Raindrops hit the window lattice obliquely. The old man's voice was mixed with moisture: "They say that Master Pang is not a true god, so why did he willingly die? The last statue of the god in my memory cracked in the sunset glow, and the sound of the gold foil peeling off was very much like spring silkworms gnawing on mulberry leaves. It's a pity that the adults don't know that we actually know everything."
"It's a pity that I have a bad memory. I only remember a few words from Master Pang Ling: be a good person, do some good deeds. We will meet again someday after parting today... I think it's like a clay statue that molds a true god. Maybe after a nirvana, Master will become a true god."
A tea drinker interrupted: "At that time, it was mentioned that it should be left in the City God Temple..."
"I remember that the ashes of incense were used as graves, the morning dew was used as wine, the lights of thousands of houses were lit, and the eternal light led the way home... He is not a real god, so we can just offer him incense. He is the one who enjoys the incense of thousands of families. Whether it is true or false, we have the final say."
"That's right! Gods are also spirits!"
"When the statue of Master Pang Ling was broken into eight pieces, a golden sun suddenly appeared on the eastern hilltop. It was a very strange sight. The whole Cangshan Mountain was as red as if it was soaked in blood, but it felt warm when it shone on my body.
I don’t know who cried out first: ‘Your Excellency has burned yourself to ashes!’ I cried so hard that day that my heart was broken.”
"I also saw thousands of streams of light coming out from the ground, carrying some vague human figures and flying towards the City God Temple. They were all the souls that were rescued... The old people said that the spirits were most afraid of the souls being scattered, but he just turned himself into thousands of golden lights, brighter than the fireworks at the temple fair, and tore open the dark demon cloud."
"He is a spirit! Even the statue is a borrowed shell of the City God! Yet he is willing to make wedding clothes for others and sacrifice himself. What do you think of this? He doesn't want incense or a golden statue, but in the end he wants to use his life to fill the hole in our formation! How can we let him down?"
"Master Qingxuan said that the spirits nurtured by the spiritual energy of heaven and earth should be like the wind in the mountains and the moon in the clouds. My family will plant trees in Cangshan Mountain, or erect a blank monument under the trees."
"In addition to the thoughtfulness, Master Pang Ling should also be given some mountain spring water and wild flowers when he was born."
"If you ask me, Master Pang Ling said that after we part today, he will return to heaven and earth. Even if he turns into snow on the mountaintop, pebbles in the stream, or weeping willows on the bank... one day when I'm washing clothes by the stream, I'll see pebbles while my hands are in the cool water - that means he's coming back to look after the people of Kui City."
The tea drinkers around seemed to be very interested and started talking at once.
The compassion that remained when Pang Ling offered his sacrifice seemed to penetrate time, and the sincerity of the people was also revealed.
The protagonist seemed to be gradually fading away, but when dusk spread over the tea bed, the scholar added a small portrait to the album. The person in the painting was still wearing a blue shirt, with a face that was both compassionate and majestic.
In the new painting created with splashed ink, a man in a green shirt is walking on a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
The most clumsy brushstrokes are not the painting skills, but the determination of the devotees to use their flesh and blood as color.