Shen Lian suddenly had an epiphany. Taiwei Pavilion was the foundation of Qing Xuan. Inside it, there were generations of the exploration of Dao and the many cultivation experiences hidden in it. This was the biggest treasure for a Dao sect.
No wonder the Grand Ancestor Master would always remain in the Taiwei Pavilion.
After he succeeded as the chief, from the information that he knew, it was during Zhang Ruoxu's time as chief that Qing Xuan had three immortal Zhenrens. This was considered quite a lot. As for the other teacher-elder who have attained immortality over the ten thousand years, too many could not make it through the three trials of Dao and returned to the reincarnation of the world.
Only a very small number finally transcended beyond the mortal world and left, cutting off their involvement in this universe and got one's freedom.
The old Daoist that Shen Lian had mistaken as an elder of the sect was still at the first level of the Taiwei Pavilion. The wrinkles on his forehead were like roles and roles of runes. It was also like the years had quietly left its mark on it.
Times passes really quick like water and the power of time was not a force that could easily fend off.
But Shen Lian knew in his mind that the wrinkles on the old Daoist's body were no simple carving by time. There was another layer of cause to it.
In front of the Taiwei Pavilion was the soft grass lawn. By taking a step into the pavilion was the hard floor surface.
Even though the lawn was soft but it regenerates every year. Even though the floor surface was solid and hair but it was gradually degenerating. It was only because by being within the Celestialism that the speed of decay was not quick, it was even shockingly slow.
The old Daoist whose eyes were closed opened at the moment Shen Lian stepped into the pavilion.
With this one look, Shen Lian actually could not avert his eyes away.
He suddenly realized he was no longer in the Taiwei Pavilion but he had become an ugly caterpillar, lying on top of a leave as he crunched on the supple green leave. This leave was supple and juicy, which made it comfortable for him to eat.
With every bite of the leave, the juice and flesh that he got were digested into the energy needed to grow each day. Of course, it was not always safe when one's life depended on the leaves. Many of the same kind as him around Shen Lian, perhaps because of the rough weather, or predator, or contracting some sort of virus, perished in the end.
If there were remains of the body, it would fall to the soil and finally turn to nutrients which were absorbed through the extended roots of the depended tree to grow new branches of leaves.
Shen Lian quietly watched all of this. He had better luck avoiding many calamities and he had lived for a very long time. Of course, the time was being compared to the time of his same kind.
In essence, he was no different than the ephemeral mayfly or the summer insect that cannot be told about ice. 1
In actual fact, he had neither seen winter nor the snow.
With each day as he grew, it was as though he had forgotten about many things. His memories as Shen Lian, as though it was too much of a burden for the caterpillar's fragile brain to handle, were gradually rejected.
Eventually, he was only left with the instinct to chew on leaves non-stop, to sustain his life.
It was until a moment when he began to gradually feel his body becoming heavy, his limbs losing its strength. At the same time, he noticed that some of the same kind as him were quietly lying on a branch and no longer moving. They were spitting out white threads from their mouth and those white threads were wrapped around themselves.
Shen Lian was also doing to the same thing. The white threads were the combination of the consumed leaves and some special structure within himself.
He suddenly thought of an idiom, to spin a cocoon around oneself. But it was in this moment where he had forgotten about his human memories that he could not understand the meaning of it.
There were more and more white threads that wrapped around the body of the caterpillar. Finally, it was as though he had fallen into a solitary pitch black where he could no longer hear any sound and he could not even move.
He could not breathe and could not look for new food to replenish his strength.
If this continues on, it would not be long before he dies. He was not too clear on the meaning of death but just the thought of 'death' filled his heart with horror.
The kind of horror that would drive him mad.
There were horrors that come with birth and death after these horrors come freedom. The first half was said by some man of virtue, the latter half was what he had hoped in his mind.
The closer he was with approaching death, the more matters that appear in his mind. There were memories of him as a human, there were memories as him being the fish in the river, there were memories of him being the bird in the sky, and there were also memories of him being a pen up livestock.
All of these were like the white threads outside his body, surrounding him.
He did not understand but he knew.
Like a spark crossing his mind, he was already really confused. Only one kind of faith remained in his mind and did not vanish forever. That was that he had to live on, only by living then he could have everything.
This survival instinct ran through the beginning and the end of his life.
He spared no effort as he wriggled on, because of that unwavering thirst, somehow there was a hidden and unspeakable transformation. His body began to transform into an extra unnamed potential. The cocoon made from the white threads was not impregnatable. All he needed was to tear it apart and he could receive a new life and freedom.
Because of the drive of this instinct, he exerted all of his strength.
Just as he was about to give it his all to break out from the cocoon, the world in front of him changed and he was still in the Taiwei Pavilion.
His confused gaze soon returned to clarity quickly.
However, deep down in his mind, there was still a longing and that was the regret of not being able to complete the metamorphosis.
"Are you the caterpillar or are you Shen Lian?" A clear and bright voice rang in the Taiwei Pavilion.
So the old Daoist could talk. Back then, he did not make a sound. Shen Lian thought he was practicing some sort of closed mouth chanting martial arts.
Shen Lian pondered slightly and answered, "The caterpillar and Shen Lian are not Shen Lian."
The old Daoist chuckled and said, "Now, you are no stronger than that caterpillar. You'll only get beaten if you go out there. Wait until you could 'spin a cocoon around yourself', then come and talk to me."
He did not specify whether Shen Lian's answer was correct and he closed his eyes and did not say anything anymore like a silent statue. If Shen Lian did not have a good look, it was hard to notice his presence.
No, the old Daoist was quieter and had a lower presence than a statue. If Shen Lian closed his eyes, he could still feel the changes of airflow of the universe, from that he could know the position of the statue.
But he could not see the old Daoist, as though he truly does not exist in this world.
How could this state be drawn a parallel to the caterpillar, or even the metamorphosis? It was too far away to reach this state.
Shen Lian knew that the old Daoist had always been in Qing Xuan, as for why he did not stop the incident with Yanxu, perhaps there were other reasons for him to not be able to do so.
Questions arose and Shen Lian did not press on because he knew that if the old Daoist was willing to talk, he would definitely tell him. Also, the old Daoist had told him to come and talk to him once he could 'spin a cocoon around himself'. His made it clear that before then, do not look for him.
Shen Lian understood what it meant to have a cocoon spun around himself. It actually meant being burdened with fabrication. By then he would be more qualified to cut through the fabrication and tackled the path of Dixian.
He continued on into the inner parts of the Taiwei Pavilion. There was no staircase that directly connected the second level in the Taiwei Pavilion but as long as one has the conditions to go up to the second level, one could naturally enter.
不可语冰的夏虫 - A phrase by Zhuangzi. It means that it is impossible to speak to persons of limited experience.
Shen Lian suddenly had an epiphany. Taiwei Pavilion was the foundation of Qing Xuan. Inside it, there were generations of the exploration of Dao and the many cultivation experiences hidden in it. This was the biggest treasure for a Dao sect.
No wonder the Grand Ancestor Master would always remain in the Taiwei Pavilion.
After he succeeded as the chief, from the information that he knew, it was during Zhang Ruoxu's time as chief that Qing Xuan had three immortal Zhenrens. This was considered quite a lot. As for the other teacher-elder who have attained immortality over the ten thousand years, too many could not make it through the three trials of Dao and returned to the reincarnation of the world.
Only a very small number finally transcended beyond the mortal world and left, cutting off their involvement in this universe and got one's freedom.
The old Daoist that Shen Lian had mistaken as an elder of the sect was still at the first level of the Taiwei Pavilion. The wrinkles on his forehead were like roles and roles of runes. It was also like the years had quietly left its mark on it.
Times passes really quick like water and the power of time was not a force that could easily fend off.
But Shen Lian knew in his mind that the wrinkles on the old Daoist's body were no simple carving by time. There was another layer of cause to it.
In front of the Taiwei Pavilion was the soft grass lawn. By taking a step into the pavilion was the hard floor surface.
Even though the lawn was soft but it regenerates every year. Even though the floor surface was solid and hair but it was gradually degenerating. It was only because by being within the Celestialism that the speed of decay was not quick, it was even shockingly slow.
The old Daoist whose eyes were closed opened at the moment Shen Lian stepped into the pavilion.
With this one look, Shen Lian actually could not avert his eyes away.
He suddenly realized he was no longer in the Taiwei Pavilion but he had become an ugly caterpillar, lying on top of a leave as he crunched on the supple green leave. This leave was supple and juicy, which made it comfortable for him to eat.
With every bite of the leave, the juice and flesh that he got were digested into the energy needed to grow each day. Of course, it was not always safe when one's life depended on the leaves. Many of the same kind as him around Shen Lian, perhaps because of the rough weather, or predator, or contracting some sort of virus, perished in the end.
If there were remains of the body, it would fall to the soil and finally turn to nutrients which were absorbed through the extended roots of the depended tree to grow new branches of leaves.
Shen Lian quietly watched all of this. He had better luck avoiding many calamities and he had lived for a very long time. Of course, the time was being compared to the time of his same kind.
In essence, he was no different than the ephemeral mayfly or the summer insect that cannot be told about ice. 1
In actual fact, he had neither seen winter nor the snow.
With each day as he grew, it was as though he had forgotten about many things. His memories as Shen Lian, as though it was too much of a burden for the caterpillar's fragile brain to handle, were gradually rejected.
Eventually, he was only left with the instinct to chew on leaves non-stop, to sustain his life.
It was until a moment when he began to gradually feel his body becoming heavy, his limbs losing its strength. At the same time, he noticed that some of the same kind as him were quietly lying on a branch and no longer moving. They were spitting out white threads from their mouth and those white threads were wrapped around themselves.
Shen Lian was also doing to the same thing. The white threads were the combination of the consumed leaves and some special structure within himself.
He suddenly thought of an idiom, to spin a cocoon around oneself. But it was in this moment where he had forgotten about his human memories that he could not understand the meaning of it.
There were more and more white threads that wrapped around the body of the caterpillar. Finally, it was as though he had fallen into a solitary pitch black where he could no longer hear any sound and he could not even move.
He could not breathe and could not look for new food to replenish his strength.
If this continues on, it would not be long before he dies. He was not too clear on the meaning of death but just the thought of 'death' filled his heart with horror.
The kind of horror that would drive him mad.
There were horrors that come with birth and death after these horrors come freedom. The first half was said by some man of virtue, the latter half was what he had hoped in his mind.
The closer he was with approaching death, the more matters that appear in his mind. There were memories of him as a human, there were memories as him being the fish in the river, there were memories of him being the bird in the sky, and there were also memories of him being a pen up livestock.
All of these were like the white threads outside his body, surrounding him.
He did not understand but he knew.
Like a spark crossing his mind, he was already really confused. Only one kind of faith remained in his mind and did not vanish forever. That was that he had to live on, only by living then he could have everything.
This survival instinct ran through the beginning and the end of his life.
He spared no effort as he wriggled on, because of that unwavering thirst, somehow there was a hidden and unspeakable transformation. His body began to transform into an extra unnamed potential. The cocoon made from the white threads was not impregnatable. All he needed was to tear it apart and he could receive a new life and freedom.
Because of the drive of this instinct, he exerted all of his strength.
Just as he was about to give it his all to break out from the cocoon, the world in front of him changed and he was still in the Taiwei Pavilion.
His confused gaze soon returned to clarity quickly.
However, deep down in his mind, there was still a longing and that was the regret of not being able to complete the metamorphosis.
"Are you the caterpillar or are you Shen Lian?" A clear and bright voice rang in the Taiwei Pavilion.
So the old Daoist could talk. Back then, he did not make a sound. Shen Lian thought he was practicing some sort of closed mouth chanting martial arts.
Shen Lian pondered slightly and answered, "The caterpillar and Shen Lian are not Shen Lian."
The old Daoist chuckled and said, "Now, you are no stronger than that caterpillar. You'll only get beaten if you go out there. Wait until you could 'spin a cocoon around yourself', then come and talk to me."
He did not specify whether Shen Lian's answer was correct and he closed his eyes and did not say anything anymore like a silent statue. If Shen Lian did not have a good look, it was hard to notice his presence.
No, the old Daoist was quieter and had a lower presence than a statue. If Shen Lian closed his eyes, he could still feel the changes of airflow of the universe, from that he could know the position of the statue.
But he could not see the old Daoist, as though he truly does not exist in this world.
How could this state be drawn a parallel to the caterpillar, or even the metamorphosis? It was too far away to reach this state.
Shen Lian knew that the old Daoist had always been in Qing Xuan, as for why he did not stop the incident with Yanxu, perhaps there were other reasons for him to not be able to do so.
Questions arose and Shen Lian did not press on because he knew that if the old Daoist was willing to talk, he would definitely tell him. Also, the old Daoist had told him to come and talk to him once he could 'spin a cocoon around himself'. His made it clear that before then, do not look for him.
Shen Lian understood what it meant to have a cocoon spun around himself. It actually meant being burdened with fabrication. By then he would be more qualified to cut through the fabrication and tackled the path of Dixian.
He continued on into the inner parts of the Taiwei Pavilion. There was no staircase that directly connected the second level in the Taiwei Pavilion but as long as one has the conditions to go up to the second level, one could naturally enter.
不可语冰的夏虫 - A phrase by Zhuangzi. It means that it is impossible to speak to persons of limited experience.