Cthulhu Gonfalon,Chapter 637 - Read free novels online

Chapter 637: Chapter 177

Of course, this story did not originate from Sui Xiong. He was an artist, not a philosopher. There was no way he could write a story that showed such depth in thought.

As for the original source of the story—naturally, that too was unclear. Reading about the history of art was enough to make Sui Xiong feel sleepy, so if he could stay awake within ten minutes from the moment he held the book, Zhuang Zi and attempted to read it, that would be a miracle.

This was actually a story that his teacher told him when he was still in school. This was the reason why he knew of such a story.

At that time, Sui Xiong’s academic performance was relatively weak, so the possibility of him getting accepted into a mainstream high school was almost zero. His parents were very worried, and even he himself was frustrated. That was when a teacher who was quite close to him encouraged and advised him to make good use of his interest in art and pursue a future in this aspect, especially when he had the advantage of being gifted in this aspect. Since then, Sui Xiong had put in a lot of hard work and effort to practice painting and drawing, hoping that, in future, he could make it into an art school.

“Is this a reliable way out? Can you really earn a living to support yourself in the future, just by painting and drawing?” asked his parents, who were still worried.

“The situation in our nation will get better, the economy will become more developed, and so, the demand for arts will increase. So long as you do a good job in painting, you won’t be needing to worry about income,” that teacher said after analyzing the situation.

Therefore, Sui Xiong went to learn how to paint. But learning how to paint was not easy at all. After half a semester of lessons, he felt that he had made some improvement, but it was very limited progress after spending so much time. He felt that the tremendous amount of effort and hard work did not pay off, and he was so discouraged that he started to doubt life itself.

“Could it be that I have no talent in painting?” he asked.

“A majority of artists do not actually have much talent,” said his painting teacher. “In this society, the most gifted people generally become scientists. To go into the profession of art, firstly, you need to be very passionate and determined. Especially for artists, being talented or gifted or whatever is not as important as you think it is.”

“But… what if I am unable to acquire the skill of painting?”

“I have never seen anyone who was serious about learning how to paint and not be able to pick up the skill. The speed of learning is the only question; if not there would be nothing to worry about,” said his painting teacher, who continued to explain, “Even the Great Master of Chinese Painting, Qi Baishi, only shot to fame in the later stages of life.”

Sui Xiong deliberated about what his teacher said, but still, he felt that there seemed to be a bit of a problem in what his teacher pointed out as a “shot to fame in the later stages of life.” Therefore, he grew even more skeptical about life.

His teacher told him this story because he was always in a dazed state with a big frown on his face all day long.

At the end of the story, that teacher said, “The lives of humans are simply too short. Those with better luck could live up to 100, those without much luck might just live up to their thirties. It is just too meaningless to think about things that are too far away. After all, none of us will know whether we are going to be like the short-lived bugs or the long-lived ancient tortoise.”

“So, what now? What am I supposed to do?” Sui Xiong asked.

“First, you must ensure that you are able to earn a living. Then you can do whatever you want,” the teacher said with a smile. “Life is too short, none of us know how long we can live. So rather than worry about whether or not you can produce results, you should just focus on doing well in what is right before you. There is really no difference between what’s big or small in life, be it the tiny bugs or an ancient tortoise. All that matters is that you take your life seriously and live it to the fullest.”

Strictly speaking, this was a pot of Chicken Soup for the soul. If this was Sui Xiong at 25 years of age, this pot of Chicken Soup would not be able to work its influence over him, but at 15 years of age, he was still so innocent. This was why he believed whatever he heard and continued to put in his best into learning how to paint.

Then he made it to art school, where later on, he became an amateur painter, and then… he achieved his breakthrough.

Yet regardless of what had been said, that teacher who told him about how “there was really no difference between what’s big or small in life…” had indeed told him something very inspirational. Sui Xiong had used this to encourage the current Sun God, who was always worried that he would not perform up to the standard of the former Sun God. He had also used this to inspire Wall, who would never be able to take his revenge. Now, Wall was using this same story to encourage Owen, who was feeling at a loss, not knowing where he should head in life. And, the story worked its purpose in producing positive results.

Owen was originally feeling very troubled. As a Holy Son of the God of Scholars, it did not matter whether he had a belief or not, because whether or not he believed in the God of Scholars would not change the fact that when in times of need, the God of Scholars would make a timely appearance. However, now that the God of Scholars had fallen, with his priesthood being inherited by the God of Knowledge and Culture, Owen’s value of existence as the Holy Son of the God of Scholars seemed to disappear. Not only that, the life he led over the past few decades seemed to be denied and written off so easily. There seemed to be no more significance in his existence…

How honest and well-mannered he was; he could not help feeling all the complaints welling up inside him. He felt as though he were a toy, or perhaps, his life was a joke, where it was casually manipulated by the high and mighty gods, and he could only be twirled and twisted around their little fingers.

What was the significance of such a life?

Then at this point in time, he heard Wall conveying such a teaching, and suddenly, he seemed to gain some enlightenment.

Mortals were indeed insignificant relative to the gods, but the value of life was determined by oneself, so was there really a significant role that others could play in one’s life?

Be it the ancient tortoise, or the Divine Tree—no matter how long-lived they were, what did it have to do with short-lived bugs?

Even if that tiny bug were to be eaten up by a bird, at least it had taken its life seriously to render it significant. At least, it had a life that belonged to it.

No matter how small or insignificant anyone could be, so long as they had taken their life seriously, then this one lifetime they had would be valuable and not some hollow toy void of meaning!

So he suddenly saw the light, and all the more, he was filled with reverence for this God of Knowledge and Culture. This god was very different from the God of Scholars, who always seemed so distant. His Majesty, standing right before him, was the great existence that he truly sought to follow!

Not only that, His Majesty had just shown him a magnificent world that was far beyond his wildest imagination, giving him much to look forward to as he eagerly yearned to see more. So long as he followed closely behind this majestic God of Knowledge and Culture, then perhaps someone as insignificant as he was could also truly catch a wider and more magnificent view of this world. This way, his life could become more exciting!

“Oh, great God of Knowledge and Culture, do let me follow in your footsteps!” said Owen with heartfelt sincerity. “I have come to realize the value of my life, but still, I yearn to see an even more magnificent view. I still long to see a more distant future!”

Wall laughed and helped Owen to his feet.

“From this day on, you shall be a pastor under me,” Wall, the god, said. “You have my promise, that if you are able to reach the level of the advanced legendary peak, I will help you enter the Legendary Realm. Then I will promote you to an elector and grant you a body of immortality.”

This promise carried such weight that it roused the interest of all the elders of the Hart Family, as well as the higher-ups from the Church of the God of Scholars. None could remain unmoved.

To be promoted to an elector would mean one would be granted with a trace of divinity. This would constitute a substantial loss for the god responsible for the exultation of a mortal to an elector. This was the reason why a majority of the gods were reluctant to grant the promotion of electors.

Take the God of Scholars, for instance—for so many years, he had never promoted anyone, not even a single elector. Upon comparison, Wall, who promoted an elector after he was just sealed as a god, and now, promising another promotion to the next person, did somehow give out a different vibe.

But this did not affect the belief and reverence his new followers had for him. On the contrary, it strengthened and intensified their belief in him. Although beliefs were based more on principles rather than interests, a magnanimous and generous god would be more likely to win the people over as compared to a stingy and petty god.

Yet in life, interests were necessary as well.

When Wall left, all the people of Grey Tower City, who originally believed in the God of Scholars, had turned to Wall, the God of Knowledge and Culture, and became his devout followers.

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