Chapter 85 — A Lone Sail on the Sea of Mist
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 3
They continued on along the river, and with the source of the Yong River only a hundred li ahead, strange occurrences multiplied. Ahead, Shen Mu spied a brilliant cluster of lamps stabbing the darkness: it was a village, and its lights stood out sharply in all that black.
Inside the village an old man was pasting together paper spirit-boats. As soon as each boat was finished, it flew out of the village of its own accord and settled by the riverbank; one after another, dripping-wet men and women climbed aboard from the river, and then the boats drifted out toward midstream, where thick fog hung, and were swallowed by it.
"That is a messenger of the underworld," the Village Head murmured. "They come out by night to ferry those who died in the river. Do not disturb them. " "A messenger of the underworld?
" Curiosity stirred in Shen Mu, and he looked at the old man more carefully.
The old man's face was blurred and indistinct, as though wrapped in gauze, so that his features could not be made out. The old man seemed to sense something and raised his head to look at him.
A chill ran through Shen Mu; he felt his very soul sway, as if about to fly out of his body.
But at that moment a sonorous Buddhist chant rang from between his brows, and the Tathagata's seal that Old Master Huo had planted there blazed with radiance, cutting off the old man's gaze. "The living must go no further.
" The old man lowered his head and went back to pasting paper boats, and a voice drifted over, faint as if it had no substance. "Shen'er," the Village Head said cautiously, "do not meddle in the world after death. " "The world after death? " Shen Mu was startled.
"We are plainly in the Waste; this is not the world of the dead. Why does the Village Head say such a thing.
.
.
" "The Waste is full of uncanny places that connect to many worlds," said the Village Head. "That little village is where the world of the dead borders the world of the living.
It is not only the Waste that holds such places; there are similar ones outside it as well. If you ever leave the Waste and come upon such a village and such an old man, do not go up and question him.
As long as you do not provoke them, they will not interfere with the living world. But they know much, and one may ask them for directions. Daoist brother, may I ask the way to the Land of No Sorrow? " The old man in the village raised one finger and pointed into the darkness. "The true Land of No Sorrow you will never reach.
. .
" The Village Head thanked him, and they pressed on. They walked no one knows how far, when suddenly the jade pendant at Shen Mu's breast rose gently into the air, pointing ahead.
Shen Mu's heart stirred.
"Village Head! " The Village Head turned and saw it, and nodded slightly.
Shen Mu unfastened the pendant, hesitated a moment, then let it go. The pendant rose and flew forward, and the Village Head led Shen Mu after it at once.
Faster and faster it went, streaking through the darkness like a shooting star. Shen Mu and the Village Head hurried in pursuit, when all at once there came a swish, like the sound of a small ball dropping into a lake: the pendant had struck an invisible membrane, sending ripple after ripple through the air. Before their eyes, a strange world seemed to unfold slowly with those ripples.
What lay before them was a vast expanse shrouded in gray mist—range upon range of towering mountains, boundless and awe-inspiring, hidden deep within the darkness, overlapping with the dark, and yet not of the dark. "There really is another realm inside the darkness! " The Village Head led him forward; Shen Mu reached out, caught the pendant, and could not suppress the surging in his heart. "Is this the Land of No Sorrow?
Will my father and mother be here?
" In his hand the pendant still leapt and strained, as if to fly to where its master was. Shen Mu hung it back at his breast and let it lead the way. The Village Head hurriedly barred his path.